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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26501422">EPISODE SIX: The Historic Horrors of Family Northwest</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_COTW/pseuds/J_COTW'>J_COTW</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Return to the Falls [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gravity Falls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dipcifica, Dippacifica, F/M, Gen, Gravity Falls Oregon, Inspired By Gravity Falls, Post-Gravity Falls, Returning to Gravity Falls, dipperxpacifica, dippifica, return to the falls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:53:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>71,517</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26501422</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_COTW/pseuds/J_COTW</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Pacifica Northwest/Dipper Pines</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Return to the Falls [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>230</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>94</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Preston Northwest was a man troubled.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been just over a week after the destruction of Geron Street at the hands of a mysterious gas explosion – and things felt tense in the Northwest Maisonette</span>
  <b>.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the title Preston and Priscilla had given their relatively small home in central Gravity Falls, so far to little retention. Most just knew it as ‘Misery central’. Even the postman, and he was still being openly accused of </span>
  <em>
    <span>werewolfism</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room was dark; soaked in a natural burgundy tone from the man’s love of Mahogany and soft, orange light - to say nothing of his self-indulgent time alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A harsh summer rain pelted against the arched windows of the parlour, refrained with a low rumble of thunder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A storm was coming. Preston was convinced it was a pathetic fallacy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The flames licked at the log on the fireplace. It gave off very little heat, and hissed occasionally as spatters of the Oregon freshwater rain pelted at the cinders and ash underneath - but that fireplace was one of the bits of status that Preston would always refuse to submit to the wider world around him. No matter how difficult things got, he demanded a log fire and a fine malt. No exceptions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even he needed peace and quiet. Even </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>needed his small pleasures.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that he had ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>limited </span>
  </em>
  <span>himself to small pleasures.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Preston was still reeling from the failure of his grand business proposals for Gravity Falls, something that still played on him daily. It ruminated in his mind; it rattled around and nagged at him. His empire, as profitable as it remained, had suffered. But, to this day, what irritated most – what angered him most - Even what </span>
  <em>
    <span>saddened</span>
  </em>
  <span> him most…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Pacifica</b>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The apple of his eye had rotted to its core; become nothing more than another stain upon his family’s once flawless name. He had tried his best to accept her emancipation and it still rankled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deep down, he adored his daughter. He wasn’t a </span>
  <em>
    <span>monster</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He had seen that girl through her life practically from birth. Or… at least, his staff had. That wasn’t the point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica was a beautiful, award winning, skilled young competitor that brought </span>
  <em>
    <span>pride</span>
  </em>
  <span> to her mother and father. That was how it was meant to be. She was meant to be their sparkling, promising young protégé! They had spent plenty of money on her and her education. Spent plenty of money on moulding her into the perfect daughter they </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserved</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had the looks Priscilla could no longer lay claim to, the sparkling wit and sarcasm that her father had proudly touted in front of several bribed environmental officers. The determination, lust for power and vie for supremacy that had made the Northwest name so </span>
  <em>
    <span>legendary</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And where had it led them? A rampant 14 year old daughter with a grudge against the people who had raised her. A 14 year old who had humiliated him in front of the town and had, in no small means, brought out a loss of hundreds of thousands of dollars, the loss of business relationships, even, to an extent, the loss of their wonderful Mansion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even worse, Preston and Priscilla were not exactly in the market for another child. They didn’t have the staff to help with such an endeavour and they were proud in their ability to keep such a clean, pristine household.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica Northwest’s emancipation was a dire expense.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure, financially, it was all pocket change, but it was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>principle.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes narrowed as he gazed into the four foot wide fireplace that dominated their living quarters. The orange and yellow flames danced quietly, innocent of the litany of frustration that was festering in the head of the household.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t banked on her beginning to show an unusual amount of interest in the Pines boy. He had been surprised by the arrival of his photograph in her belongings – he had been shocked by the newspaper clippings and her developing interest in conspiracies and mysteries.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had been shocked, but she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>young</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Every privileged youngster ends up fascinated by poor people. That was normal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Pacifica had </span>
  <em>
    <span>ceased</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be normal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica had always carried that certain… naivety to her. It was charming; loveable, even. The thought that their family was honourable, had a duty to the backwards hillbillies in town. The strange idea of supporting people, even serving people – by the time Pacifica had gotten a job, only a few days after the Pines had left last year, Preston knew that the writing was on the wall. He knew that the rot was setting in. He hadn’t banked on that boy having such an effect on her. He hadn’t banked on her getting into the ‘room of portraits’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had moved out. She had fallen in love with the Pines boy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kissed</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Pines boy. Gotten into a </span>
  <em>
    <span>relationship</span>
  </em>
  <span> with the Pines boy. She wanted a </span>
  <em>
    <span>future</span>
  </em>
  <span> with the Pines boy. She wanted a future at Greasy’s Diner and somehow had managed to keep the place going, even make it more popular </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> get a promotion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A promotion. At a diner. She now had </span>
  <em>
    <span>authority</span>
  </em>
  <span> in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>diner</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And a relationship that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>working</span>
  </em>
  <span> with Dipper Pines.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Free access to just about every wealthy young bachelor in the country, even </span>
  <em>
    <span>worldwide</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and she had gone for some penniless, crude, awkward, sweaty young ruffian in a vest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A vest!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A </span>
  <em>
    <span>vest</span>
  </em>
  <span> for pity’s sake! Not even a waistcoat!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He chewed his fat, obscenely expensive cigar furiously as he garnished his thoughts. Every plan had failed, every conceivable attempt he had even considered seemed to result in a negative impact on his business. A more sensible man might give in, accept that his daughter has new plans for her future – but this did not take into account how </span>
  <em>
    <span>vindictive</span>
  </em>
  <span> a fellow Preston Northwest could be. Nor how fragile he feared himself to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What worried him more than anything was what Pacifica’s new investigative streak - and that of her amateur detective friends - had potential to hit a bit too close to home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced up at the portrait of his father and grimaced, taking another hearty chug of his liquor and slamming the glass back down on the fine, gilded mahogany table that sat aside his red velvet armchair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose you’d give me a whack around the ear, old man. Tell me to pick up the slack and drag her back home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckled, looking down at that filthy wrap of tobacco leaves - one of the final, vintage cigars </span>
  <em>
    <span>El Premierio </span>
  </em>
  <span>from his humidor - one of the final scraps of fifty-dollar-a-piece excess that he used to tout upon his person so proudly. His eyelids weighed into a regretful glance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never thought I’d see the day that the townspeople started hating us. I bet you’d never foreseen the day that our… </span>
  <em>
    <span>partners</span>
  </em>
  <span> became a threat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He poured more of the strong-smelling liquor into his glass. That vintage, aged malt burnt his nasal hair like paint thinner, the rich, caramel-brown liquid’s scent spreading throughout the room, intermingling with the unmistakable scent of burning, matured tobacco leaf and maple.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cigar’s ashen smoke swirled in thick, creeping tendrils towards the parlour’s high ceilings. Preston watched it and twisted his lip, his pupils shrinking as his thoughts crawled through his lips like so many hundreds of tiny legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Cankerblight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could almost hear that insidious hissing run down him like a shiver down his vertebrae.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t a man easily fearful, but he was forced to admit that it was becoming increasingly obvious his family had been backing a lot of very… tumultuous horses. Things that, in hindsight, were looking increasingly likely to threaten him. Threaten him and his legacy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The destruction of Geron street was not simply a matter of repair and replacement. The destruction of Geron Street was going to bite him hard; possibly literally. And somehow, he just knew - he just knew that Pacifica was involved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thunder rumbled, and, with a sudden gust of wind, the fire was blown out with a hollow </span>
  <em>
    <span>whoompf</span>
  </em>
  <span>, startling the middle aged man out of his seat. He froze as the red hot embers glowed softly, producing very little light and very little comfort - scanning the room with his tired old eyes and half expecting that familiar cockney accent to start piercing his ears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It never came. Preston's confrontation would be for another night. For now, it was a crooked man by himself; surrounded by smoke and fearful of the effects his own actions - and the family before him - would bring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was just Preston. Just Preston and the pelting of rain, with the crackling of thunder - great, bellowing noises that felt harsh and judgemental. Like bellows of hatred and fury. His eyes glanced back to that leering portrait of Auldman Northwest, whose painted eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, piercing him with every move - staring right down to the bottom of Preston’s sensitive, tumultuous ego.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sat back down shakily and held his forehead, taking a deep breath and cursing his paranoia, before splashing what was left of his malt onto the fire. The fire reawakened as it hit the liquor, but didn't hold for long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was going to be another sleepless evening. This time, by choice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Preston Northwest was a man most troubled; he knew it, the family knew it, and practically the entire town knew it - all in equal measure. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They just didn’t know how much trouble he was in.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Slightly Less Impressive Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Toby Determined. </p><p>The name rang like the clang of two garbage cans being blown together by the winds of the storm. It was a name of little repute, one that worried or scared people more than it enthralled or interested them. </p><p>There he sat at his desk (which he had stolen from the local elementary school) in his shabby little office, typing away at his <b> <em>Li’l Reporter’s Type-a-matic </em> </b>with his usual misplaced vigour and enthusiasm, fuelled by the storm outside his little wooden shack’s doors.</p><p>This was Toby’s year. He was certain of it. He won a video game tournament, he’d written many incredibly popular articles - his piece about Geron Street’s destruction had sold 18 copies - he’d made six dollars taking boudoir photographs of his ex-wife for her dating profile, and she had even reduced their restraining order by two metres for the job. </p><p>It was quite a time to be alive, and he had never been so overjoyed to <em> be </em>alive. Not since he last got mistaken for a Missing Link and toured with the Harrington Brothers Circus. </p><p> </p><p>However, Toby Determined - like Preston Northwest - was a man troubled. He glanced up at the portrait of his Great-Grandfather; Tobias Determined, and furrowed his somewhat misshapen brow.</p><p>Tobias Determined. The Gravity Falls Gossiper’s founder. A man of principle, of journalistic ethic, of strength - the most handsome newspaperman of Oregon. The most charismatic, successful and unflinching journalist in the town.</p><p>For it seemed like an eternity, the Determined family followed his lead - flying the flag for journalism and the little man, in a town almost constantly rocked by horrors and bizarre occasions; a town that never seemed to rest, never seemed to stop - never seemed to slow down.</p><p>Gravity Falls in the age was a frantic, exciting, harrowing place to live - a place that always had news. </p><p>At least, until the cover ups began. Until the threats began to roll in from the town’s masters. Until modest bribes and raised fists began enforcing a nature of silence.</p><p>And now, Toby spent most of his time filling the pages with adverts or town teenagers writing articles about knitting. And that Valentino Kid asking for an alias so he could write cross-stitch articles.</p><p>He sighed as he tapped back the typewriter and made himself a cup of Joe. </p><p> </p><p>The rot had set in early. Mayor Befufftlefumpter’s predecessor was not well recorded in the town’s annals - but was a legendarily harsh taskmaster, constantly obsessed with gagging orders and policing. He had been the man who had started stomping down on the Gossiper’s ethics; the man who had started working to crush the reporting of the town’s more bizarre events and corrupt financiers. </p><p>Befufftlefumpter, in his heyday, had followed the precedent with an unpleasant veneer of being a ‘gentle father figure’, bedecked knitwear, bow tie and glasses with finely pressed slacks. A pipe-smoking, jolly everyman of middle-class America in public.</p><p>Privately, he was a very different individual. An individual with no interest in maintaining relationships with the townspeople. A recluse who stayed strangely silent, allowing a blatant coup at the hands of that family.</p><p><em> That </em>family.</p><p>It made him feel ill to even think of that name on his lips.</p><p> </p><p>The portrait seemed to stare down at him harshly, a smug smile upon that lantern jaw, those broad shoulders seeming to twist confidently in the flickering lights of the old newspaper office. The handsome man’s eyes reminded Toby of everything he wasn’t.</p><p>Everything he would never be. </p><p>“Oh, butterballs.”</p><p>He looked up fearfully at Great-Grampy Determined and winced.</p><p>“I’m- I’m not <em> like </em> you, Great-Grampy. I’ll <em> never </em>be like you.”</p><p>He clenched his tiny, mouse-like fists. </p><p>“Things are different now! I just wanted to be the Razz-Dazzler! It was my dream, Great-Grampy! Not this newspaper! Not this business!”</p><p>
  <b> <em>CRA-FOOM</em> </b>
</p><p>Lighting struck outside, shaking the Gossiper’s tiny cabin and rattling the painting on the nail that held it so precariously in those cheap plywood walls.</p><p>“Don’t shout at me, Great-Grampy! I’m sorry!”</p><p>
  <b> <em>CRAKA-FOOM</em> </b>
</p><p>More rattling, and, as if to mark his wrath, the lights in the Gossiper’s office flickered off, plunging the office into darkness. Toby yelped as the portrait finally fell from its hanging, slamming the top of his old filing cabinet with a clang. </p><p>There was a pause as, deep within the cabinet’s rudimentary mechanical, a shallow click sounded - and, to Toby’s amazement, a side panel fell to the floor. </p><p>He gasped, dropping his coffee mug - though, at his diminutive height, it was far from enough to shatter the cheap ceramic - and ran to a thin piece of yellowed paper that slipped from the secret compartment. </p><p>Toby fearfully knelt over it - his hand shaking, as if he was about to defuse - or, rather, set off - an explosive device. His fingers took grasp of that dappled, egg-shell textured paper and opened it to reveal a hand-penned message.</p><p>
  <b> <em>CRACK-A-FOOMl</em> </b>
</p><p>The scandalised gasp that left the unsuccessful journalist’s homely face was drowned out by the crack of thunder.</p><p>...And the sound of his roof falling in. </p><p>...And the sound of him screaming ‘Oh Marbles’ at the top of his lungs.</p><p>Ultimately, a surprisingly busy day for the Gossiper’s office.</p><p>Oh yes, Toby Determined was a man most troubled. And it wasn’t just because he needed to patch up his roof. Again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Cocoa Date</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Dipper and Pacifica had taken up a nightly routine in those long Summer evenings; something that neither had been particularly used to. Perhaps it was those ever-encroaching teenage years that demanded a routine, or, perhaps, something deeper.</p><p>The belief that somehow, rigidity would develop the Summer into something with a little more permanence. Something more durable than a season. They smiled, they laughed together, and, for a least a little while, they were happy with it just being <em> them </em>. </p><p>Sure, it wasn't easy to refuse a sleepover in Pacifica’s mind, and she kind of envied the girls upstairs getting up to their usual chaos, but when she looked at him? It felt natural. </p><p>They looked into eachother’s eyes quite by accident and broke into a gentle smile. </p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>“More than okay.”</p><p>But they could both sense eachother’s worry; eachother’s panic and concern. It was rather hard not to notice those little flecks of doubt - that little flicker of uncertainty, like the flickering lights of the shack’s faulty wiring. </p><p> </p><p>They sat together in the armchair, peering over Ford’s 70s Conspiracy Magazines with hot cups of cocoa, quietly indulging in their self-assured, nerdy little interests and chuckling at the bizarre things people believed before the internet was a thing. </p><p>Whether it was aliens, lasers beam communication, bumblebees actually being advanced robotics or- </p><p>“Ever heard of the Hirschians? These people seriously thought there was some link between the world’s origin and flannel.”</p><p>“Whoa. What, is it the Corduroy religion?”</p><p>They chuckled and peered over the photos of men - and women - with fake facial hair and buffalo checked jackets, posing with taxidermied livestock and arguing that the world’s point of origin was in Piedmont. </p><p>Dipper scoffed at the very concept. "Nothing good ever comes from Piedmont."</p><p><em> Except you. </em> Pacifica glanced at him and resisted the obvious cheesy remark that had just run through her head. </p><p>They weren't some kind of soppy teenage couple, endlessly lovesick, full of cheesy lines… </p><p>As much as she kind of liked that idea.</p><p> </p><p>The sound of thunder crackled overhead. Pacifica almost instinctively held onto him a little tighter as the lights flickered once again, the woodwork of the building creaking slightly as the wind hammered against it. </p><p> </p><p>Dipper blinked and looked at his girlfriend, nuzzling close against his shoulder, and smiled broadly, a flush hitting his cheeks as he rubbed her back gently. Every thought in his mind was racing as the thrill - which truly never seemed to leave him, no matter how long they were together - rattled around his head.</p><p>“You getting soft on me?” He jibed confidently - before instantly reclining slightly. “S-sorry.”</p><p>“Jerk. It’s a pretty big storm out there.”</p><p>“Yeah. But this place has seen worse. I’m pretty sure we’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Bit hard to believe when the walls have holes in them, Dip. I’m still confused by the giant chess pawn in the bedroom.”</p><p>Dipper chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”</p><p>He was met with a smirk and a familiar tap on his nose. “Is that before or after Cankerblight, the Gooseliath, the Ghost of Greasy’s, Bloodcraft-”</p><p>“Hey, you came out of them all fine, didn’t you?”</p><p>
  <b> <em>CRAKA-FOOM</em> </b>
</p><p>The lights flashed - then died, plunging the shack into darkness. Dipper was the first to yelp in fear, prompting a giggle from his rathermore steel nerved girlfriend. </p><p>“You going soft on me, Dip?” She winked. “Guess the power’s out.”</p><p>The eruption of screams from the bedroom was predictable, Grenda loudly proclaiming that it was World War 3 and they were all doomed while Mabel was already taking charge and demanding they start collecting rations.</p><p> </p><p>“You kids doing alright?” Ford asked, armed with a flashlight - one of those old crank handled things that Pacifica had only really seen in 80s movies about scrappy kids exploring the forest  - having only just emerged from the depths of his study and laboratory. </p><p>“We’re fine, Grunkle Ford. What are you two doing down there?”</p><p>“Just looking over some documents.” Ford replied - but the stern look on his face insinuated it was something a touch more serious. Dipper raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“What kind of documents…?”</p><p>“It’s history, Dipper. Just some light reading. Make sure you don’t disturb us, do you understand?”</p><p>“I mean, sure, but-”</p><p>“Good.” Ford replied, simply, cutting off any further questioning. “Take this, and go check on the girls upstairs.” </p><p>Dipper blinked as the flashlight was pushed into his hands. “Are you sure everything’s alright…?”</p><p>“I’m about as certain as I can be, Dipper. Now please, go check on your sister.”</p><p>Dipper hesitated. “Fine. Come on, Pacifica-”</p><p>“Pacifica’s needed here for a moment.”</p><p> </p><p>The Northwest heir looked up at Ford and raised an eyebrow. Ford was not an easy man to read at the best of times; he always spoke with a certain sense of authority, with a grizzled, stiff exterior that seemed to embody the Grunkles. This time, however, he seemed particularly restrictive in his attitude.</p><p>The old man had grown closer and more open to her - that much was made obvious by his invite for her to join them on the Stan O’War, of course - and she had gained a certain understanding with that somewhat loner-intellectual personality. Perhaps to little surprise considering who her boyfriend was. But right now, she had literally no clue what was going on.</p><p>A surprise? Maybe they’d designed a cabin for her on the boat. Maybe they’d bought her something, or maybe- </p><p> </p><p>“Come on, Miss Northwest. We shan’t be too long.”</p><p>
  <em> Uh-oh. Miss Northwest? That couldn’t be a good sign.  </em>
</p><p>Dipper huffed, kissed Pacifica’s cheek and turned the torch’s crank handle as he climbed out of the armchair. “Shout me if you need me, okay?”</p><p>“Chill out, Dipper. I know how to handle your Grunkles.”</p><p>Ford momentarily broke out of his sincere frown, an eyebrow raised with a subtle little smile on his face. “Do tell?”</p><p>“All I need is a gold chain and a S<em> htar Threck </em> DVD, and you’ll both be distracted.” Pacifica beamed, cheekily. </p><p>“I suppose I’ll have to keep a closer eye on you. That kind of knowledge is meant to be secret.” Ford beamed - before snapping back into his more serious expression and clearing his throat. “Now come on.” </p><p> </p><p>He led the way without another word, both six fingered hands behind his back as he walked with his now characteristic half-wooden clump, limping slightly thanks to the less than ideal prosthetic hidden inside his boots. </p><p>She always tended to consider Ford as a grown up Dipper. She kind of liked that prospect, in a way, even if she <em> had </em> spent the first week or so thinking he was just a bitter old man with a superiority complex. </p><p>Sure, Dipper didn't have the voice, or stamina, or chin, or even the sheer intelligence of his Grunkle, but he had the determination and the strange feeling of authority. She didn't think Dipper would ever have 9 PHDs, that was for sure, but she was pretty certain he was <em> exactly </em>the kind of person who would go diving into other dimensions for the simple purpose of exploration. </p><p>Dipper's anxiety was similar to Ford's paranoia in a sense. </p><p>Probably Bill's fault, really.</p><p>Oh yes, she saw a lot of Dipper in Grunkle Ford. Just a dorkier, scaredy-cat, <em> awkward </em>Grunkle Ford.</p><p>Saying that, she couldn't help but consider Stan the smarter of the two Grunkles. Sort of. Conning people for nearly thirty years and making a profit in your missing brother's house? Impressive. </p><p>She sort of figured herself as a bit more of a potential Stan. Once upon a time, she’d have balked at the idea of being that gross, curmudgeonly old scam artist, but since she had gotten to know him - and respect him, she couldn’t help but think he was a pretty damned good father figure. In his own way. Maybe in another worl-</p><p> </p><p>"<b> <em>Pacifica</em> </b>."</p><p>She snapped back into the real world from her little period of Stan watching and realised she was standing in front of the two Grunkles, in the middle of Ford's book-addled study, lit as it was by lanterns and battery powered lights.</p><p>"Oh. Uh- sorry. What's up?" </p><p>The two older men looked intensely serious. Or seriously intense. She wasn't sure which. On the desks in front of them, scattered in teetering piles, were books of Gravity Falls history, annotated with tabs and post it notes. </p><p>Stan looked exhausted. And intensely bored. "Look, Blondie, we need to ask ya a favour."</p><p>Pacifica raised an eyebrow. "Okay…?"</p><p>"We have reason to believe there's a little more to your family than meets the eye.” Ford replied. “And we need to ask you a few questions about the mansion. Explore it a little more… in depth."</p><p> </p><p>Pacifica felt her heart jump into her mouth. "Guys, I've not been there for, like, a year."</p><p>“Don’t worry about that, kid.” Stan grinned. “We’ve got that sorted for this weekend.”</p><p>Pacifica’s eyes widened fearfully. The prospect of going back to her once spectacular, world renowned home was not one she was particularly enamoured with. It reminded her a little too clearly of what life was like without the Pines. It reminded her a little too clearly of what <em> she </em> was like before the Pines. “You want me to-”</p><p>“We need you to show us around, Pacifica." Ford said, tapping a photograph of the modified mansion house on his pinboard. What was it with the Pines and connecting photos together with red string? Weird. "McGucket’s already agreed to it. He and the family are off up North for a while."</p><p>"Somethin' about a nuclear bunker for some kind of secret organisation, yadda yadda…" The other Grunkle rolled his eyes disinterestedly before scratching his armpit.</p><p>“I’m really not sure if-”</p><p>“We’d be happy to let just you and Dipper go it alone, if it makes you feel more comfortable…" Ford rolled his eyes with a wry smile on his face. </p><p>"It'll be you and him, kid. Alone in the big place, exploring together. We'll get pizza delivered or somethin', stick in the 18th bedroom or whatever, and you two can have free run of the place. Sounds like a good deal to me, right?"</p><p>Pacifica adjusted her hair and twisted her lip. The Grunkles were no slouches when it came to knowing <em> exactly </em> how to twist her arm. </p><p>Being alone with Dipper. <em> Properly </em> alone with Dipper. </p><p>She tried her damndest to sound scandalised at the very idea, but failed miserably. If her voice had broken any more, it'd be the shack's miniature railroad. </p><p> </p><p>"Th-that doesn't sound like very responsible parenting!" She tried to protest. </p><p>"Good thing we're Grunkles, kid." Stan replied before chugging his drink. It didn't look like a soda can.</p><p>"Anything for the pursuit of knowledge." Ford added. "But this is a serious mission, Pacifica. Do I make myself clear? We'll need photographs, reports, brass rubbings-" </p><p>"And anything we might get a decent price for online."</p><p>Ford slapped Stan round the back of the head before returning to his reassuring smile. “I know it’s not the most… pleasant idea. But I promise, you’ll do fine.”</p><p>Pacifica squirmed. “I… I guess.”</p><p>The scientist smiled and ruffled her hair. “You’ve the spirit in you, Pacifica. I felt more comfortable asking you privately, first. Sorry for interrupting your little cocoa date.”</p><p>“Heh, it’s fine, I just-”</p><p>She blinked.</p><p>“...Cocoa date?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Power Cut</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Dipper ascended the creaking old wooden stairs to the shack’s attic, still cranking the vintage flashlight his Grunkle had decided to bestow upon him. He knew they were up to something downstairs, and it was killing him. </p><p>He sighed as the relic in his hands flickered back into darkness, and touched his way to the entrance of that deadly quiet bedroom, the pitch black conditions only split by the occasional flash of distant lightning. Slowly, nervously, he knocked on the worn old woodpanel door. “Mabel? Candy?”</p><p>The silence ruled. </p><p>“Seriously, guys. It’s only a power cu-”</p><p> </p><p>With a thump and a roar of what felt like pure fury, a girl built like a cinder block flew against him, flinging him backwards to the far side of the attic hallway with the impact of a careening freight train, picking up a countless number of splinters en route. </p><p>“<b>Who are you?! Who sent you?!</b>”</p><p>“Dipper. And Grunkle Ford sent me.”</p><p>“<b>I’m not sure about this one, guys! I think he’s Russian or something!</b>”</p><p>“Grenda, cut it out.” Dipper replied, rolling his eyes. “I haven’t the time for this.”</p><p>“<b>If you aren’t Russian, what’s with the cold war era flashlight?! Checkmate! Read ‘em and weep!</b>”</p><p>Candy peeked around the doorframe, already wearing an old motorcycle helmet on her head with stripes of war paint on her cheeks. “I think that actually may be Dipper.”</p><p>“<b>You aren’t an expert in this, Candy! Go get the Empress!”</b></p><p>It was here that Mabel proudly rode Waddles out of the door in her finest summer dress, peering down at her increasingly bewildered brother. </p><p>She leant down and narrowed her eyes. “Who sent you?”</p><p>“Grunkle Ford. Mabel, it’s been literally ten minutes since the power went out. What’s wrong with you?!”</p><p>“<b>We ate sixteen Pixie sticks each and washed it down with Pitt soda!</b>” Grenda proclaimed proudly. </p><p>“It was <em> full sugar </em> Pitt soda.” Candy nodded enthusiastically. “If you take both at once, it’s quite a trip.”</p><p>“<b>I can smell colours and taste all of the e-numbers at once</b>!!”</p><p> </p><p>“Can you please,<em> please </em>get off of me.” Dipper grunted, trying his best to maintain his patience. “Your hands are squeezing my collarbone, Grenda.”</p><p>Grenda looked to Mabel, who paused before giving a nod of approval, maintaining the haughty exterior of a forest maiden. Sure, it was a forest maiden wearing a dress that was covered in pictures of kittens riding taco ponies, but it was a forest maiden all the same. </p><p>“What’s going on, bro bro?”</p><p>“That’s exactly what I was going to ask.” Dipper snapped, brushing himself off. “There’s a power cut, Mabel. Grunkle Ford wanted me to check on you.” </p><p>“We’re fine, Dip. Just business as usual.”</p><p>“<b>We’re separating from society and starting an anarchist revolution!</b>”</p><p>“Whaaaat? Grenda, that’s crazy…” Mabel beckoned at Candy to shut her up. “We’re not planning an uprising at all. We’re just crazy kids having fun.” </p><p>Dipper raised an eyebrow. “Right.”</p><p>“So… how’s life in paradise, huh?” the still somewhat saccharine-addled Pines twin grinned, giving a wink. </p><p>“Huh? I wouldn’t know.” </p><p>“I mean with Pacifica, Dip!” </p><p>“Oh. It’s fine. Sorta ruined by the powercut, but it’s fine.”</p><p>“Oh, I bet it was made better by it! Alone, in the dark, no-one else around while you-”</p><p>“We were reading conspiracy magazines.”</p><p>“...Oh.” Mabel paused and scrunched up her nose. “<em>Oh.</em>”</p><p>There was an awkward pause as Mabel considered what her brother said, the silence broken only by Waddles snuffling against the floor. </p><p>“Man. You guys are dorks.” she replied, simply. “Where is she?”</p><p>“She’s talking with Ford and Stan, I guess.” </p><p>“And you just let them break you both up like that? Man, you really are an amateur, bro-bro!”</p><p>“I’m not in the mood.”</p><p>Mabel’s face dropped, her usual tendency for good-natured teasing rapidly falling to the wayside. “What’s up?” </p><p>“You know what’s up.”</p><p>“You feel awkward and sweaty?”</p><p>“No, Mabel. We’re nearly halfway through Summer.” He sighed, sitting the little reading nook by that… disturbingly Bill shaped window. “We’re nearly halfway through Summer and then what, we just have to leave again? It sucks. I’m <em> happier </em> here than Piedmont, Mabel. I don’t <em> want </em>to go back. I’d give anything to just get a bit more of…”</p><p>“A bit more of Summer, huh?” Mabel smiled sheepishly, sitting up with her brother. </p><p>“I guess I uh… forgot how much I- how much I understand what you were going through. That’s all.”</p><p>“Yeah. It sucks, but.. Like… as long as we’re together, it can’t be so bad. Right?”</p><p>Dipper squirmed. “Of course, but-”</p><p>“Hey. I like being a trio too, but we’re the dream team! We’re the Mystery Twins! We’ll get through it!”</p><p>“It’s not <em> us </em>that I’m worrying about.”</p><p>Mabel blinked. “You can’t just… just drop everything for her, Dip. I can’t drop everything for Summer, you can’t drop everything for a girl. She’s more grown up than we are! She’s Pacifica Northwest! She’s a tough cookie! She’s-”</p><p>“She’s going to leave me the moment Summer is over.”</p><p>“Na, nu-uh. She loves you, Dip.”</p><p>“Why would she love me that much to wait for a year?!”</p><p>“I mean, sure seems like she did for the past one. And that was before you’d even kissed.” Mabel replied, kicking her feet. “At least, as far as I know…?”</p><p>Dipper blinked and stared at his sister incredulously. “You seem to be full of these conspiracies, Mabel. There wasn’t anything going on back then.”</p><p>“I get my suspicion from you.” She grinned. “I don’t know what you got up to while I was making sock puppets, or chasing butterflies, or pigs, or-”</p><p>“I was right next to you.”</p><p>“Could’ve been a photocopy.”</p><p>“Hey, I never told you about-”</p><p>“We’re twins, I get to read your journals by nature. It’s, like, my birthright or something.”</p><p>Dipper held his head in his hands and sighed. Mabel’s little smile fell away again as she patted his back awkwardly. </p><p>“Look, Dipper, this isn’t anything new, okay? I get it, summer romances, I’ve-”</p><p>“This isn’t a summer romance.” </p><p>Mabel glared. It wasn’t very easy to make Mabel glare, and when she did, it was surprisingly intimidating. A bit like a chihuahua in a cat-taco-pony-dress. “You think I thought mine were just going to be for Summer? I cared about my boyfriends too, Dipper. You might think yours is different - hell, I thought all of mine would be different, too! But like… we’re kids. You’ll either wait for eachother or you’ll move on. It’s just…”</p><p>She sighed and booted the wooden panelled seat with the back of her heel. “It’s just how Summer <em> works </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Dipper’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t used to realistic advice from Mabel, especially when it was Mabel in the middle of a conspiratorial third-world-war sugar high, no matter how much he’d usually find it a pleasant surprise.</p><p>It was… a bit hard to argue with. Irritatingly so. In his mind, he was meant to be the smarter, more collected twin - and he had just been given a lecture about love. </p><p>He knew it - in his mind, he was absolutely <em> certain </em> he and Pacifica were something different. They had to be. They simply <em> had </em>to be. This was the first time he’d ever been in love with somebody who wasn’t two hipster-levels of indie fuzz music ahead of him. </p><p>“Thanks, Mabel.” He said, dryly. </p><p>“Look, you wanna make her stick around, Dip, you go down there and like, blow her socks off! Find your perfect opportunity to amaze her.”</p><p>Dipper blinked. “Mabel, I don’t have the ability to freaking blow people away, don’t you get that? I’m just- I’m just me.”</p><p>“Ever thought that maybe <em> you’re </em>what she likes? It sure as heck isn’t our money, or our lifestyle, or your cooking. And, I mean, it definitely isn’t your muscles either! Haww!... Sorry.”</p><p>Dipper looked at the floor and went quiet. “I guess.”</p><p>“Just wait for the next big adventure. You know it’ll come. Then try to be the best you you can be. Okay, bro?”</p><p> </p><p>“<b>I am the new emperor! I have discovered a land of boiling oceans and magical beasts! I have eaten a fifty pack of pixie sticks and I have no beginning or end! I am immortal!!</b>”</p><p>There came a smash from inside the bedroom. </p><p>“I’ve uh… I’ve gotta go. Just keep it in mind, okay?” Mabel smiled, hugging her brother before hopping back onto Waddles’ back and storming back into the bedroom. </p><p>“I shall defeat you with the power of feathers, emperor Grendos!”</p><p> </p><p>Dipper held his brow and gave a little smile. If there was one thing that was a constant in his life, it was Mabel, and, for as little as he often understood her, he wouldn’t change having a sister for the world. </p><p>He picked up that relic of a flashlight and trudged back downstairs. All he needed was that next big adventure. Then? Then he could blow her socks off.</p><p>Did rich people ever <em> not </em>wear socks? Food for thought. </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Big Adventure Beckons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>When he reached the bottom of that broken old wooden staircase, Pacifica was already back in the armchair, sipping at her cocoa with her eyes wide, and her hand gently shaking. </p><p>“Those guys are crazy up there.” Dipper chuckled - only for his face to drop when he finally noticed the blonde’s rather troubled stance. “Hey, uh...You okay?”</p><p>“Yeah. I think so.”  She smiled, awkwardly.  “We’ve uh… got a bit of a mission.”</p><p>“A mission? What sort of mission?”</p><p>“Uh… y’know, going to the Northwest Mansion, spelunking for mysteries, recording the secret rooms that are around there-”</p><p> </p><p>Dipper tried to hide his thrill. This was it. The big adventure. His chance to blow Pacifica’s socks off and prove himself as an unforgettable soulmate, one that would last for life, no matter what happened. </p><p>He beamed throughout Pacifica’s explanation of what had been discussed. The summary didn’t last long; but by the time Pacifica had finished, Dipper’s eyes had that intense look that only the finest mystery could provide. </p><p>Pacifica didn’t share the enthusiasm. “Look, I know this is your thing, Dip, but… that’s my old home, y’know? It uh… it feels a bit weird to even talk about going back there.”</p><p>“I get it. I get it.” He nodded, solemnly. </p><p>Unfortunately, even that facade of seriousness didn’t last. He gripped her shoulders and beamed, gazing into her eyes, snapping almost immediately in an enthusiastic, childlike excitement. “But this is<em> so </em>cool. I <em> knew </em>that house was hiding more than a run of the mill ghost. I <em> knew </em>it!”</p><p>Pacifica took a deep breath and twisted her lip. She should have been mad; deep down, she<em> was</em>. But Dipper’s enthusiasm was nothing if not infectious. She gave a weak little smile and took his hands off of her shoulders, holding them tightly. “I should have known you’d like this idea more than me.”</p><p>Dipper smiled. “Just you and me in that big old place? It’ll be like, real peace and quiet, just you and me exploring! Paz, this is going to be amazing! Think of what we could find!”</p><p>“I lived in that mansion for thirteen years, Dipper. We probably won’t find<em> anything </em>that I don’t already know about. Apart from McGucket’s awful decor. And it’s <em> Pacifica</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey!” Came Dipper’s inevitable - and clumsy - protest. “We found a secret room on the night that we first-” </p><p>He paused before he could stammer any further into that little Freudian slip. </p><p>Pacifica’s face curled up into a smirk. “First what?”</p><p>“Well...  y’know-”</p><p>“That you first fell for me?” She grinned, moving a little closer. “Yeah, that must be it.”</p><p>“Pretty sure <em> you </em> hugged <em> me</em>, Paz.”</p><p>She tapped his nose in her familiar way and raised an eyebrow. “Do you, like, forget who’s read your journal, Dip? ‘Cos I seem to remember someone saying-”</p><p>“Alright, alright, I get it- Jeez, you really can’t just drop things can you?” Dipper snapped - though he was still smiling broadly, his hands still in hers. </p><p>“Not when I’m right. Which, let’s face it, is most of the time.” the blonde giggled. </p><p> </p><p>Dipper smiled and sat back in the armchair, holding her closer. Their usual sarcasm and flirtatious jabs were just about the best thing about being with her; even if he found himself getting stupidly embarrassed and awkward. </p><p>Secretly, he was celebrating. He knew he had impressed her when they were last at the old Northwest mansion; and then, he was just a ghost hunter. Here, he could be an explorer. Perhaps he should start researching the architecture, look into the Northwest mansion’s plans and history - really bone up on this stuff in advance so he can really blow her away.</p><p>Dipper Pines, Northwest Mansion expert! It was perfect! Taking charge and leading Pacifica Northwest around her own home like the leader he was meant to be - looking for hauntings, looking for demons and secret caverns and those weird rooms that always seemed to be hiding behind bookcases- </p><p> </p><p>“Dipper. Earth to the dork. Hellooo?” Pacifica snapped her fingers. “Stop daydreaming. I said, “Do you think this is really a good idea?”</p><p>“Oh. Uh - well - I’m kinda looking forward to it, this is gonna be great!”</p><p>“Sure.” Pacifica sighed, rolling her eyes. “If you’re sure it’s not a bad idea, I suppose I have to trust you…”</p><p>“I mean, as you said, you’ve lived there for thirteen years! You’re like - you’re not going to really be shocked by anything if you’ve seen it all before.”</p><p>“The Grunkles said there’s more going on than they thought. I think that they’ve an idea of what they’re looking for.”</p><p>“Grunkle Ford goes hunting for weird stuff all the time, Pacifica. It doesn’t mean he’ll find anything.”</p><p>“Sounds familiar.”</p><p>“Exactly!” Dipper replied, pulling the journal from his vest and burying his nose into it, by torchlight. </p><p>Pacifica just smirked at the realisation that her little remark had gone completely unnoticed. Classic Dipper.</p><p> </p><p>She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes as she considered her feelings. There was always going to be part of her that was ruled by being a Northwest. Old habits die hard, and she knew that Dipper wasn’t really one to create fake drama about it - but she would always miss her old house.</p><p>She would always miss that mansion, her enormous bed, those silk sheets, the butlers - for as unpleasant and demanding as her parents could be, as miserable as they made her, she<em> did </em>enjoy her lifestyle as the socialite living at the top of society. The joy in being Pacifica Northwest was that no matter how miserable things were, she always had something to retreat to - literally tens of rooms in which she could get away from her strict father and haughty mother.</p><p>Life was great with the Pines. That couldn’t be emphasised enough. She loved, loved, loved her new situation. But to go back to that big old manor house, to go back to the place she knew so well, she was almost worried it could upend<em> everything</em>. Act as a reminder of what she used to have, who she used to be, what she was meant to be- </p><p>She held Dipper a little tighter as she ruminated on the idea. It wasn’t a comfortable one. </p><p>All the same, she<em> was </em>curious. </p><p> </p><p>Did her family really have more going on than even<em> she </em>was aware of? The idea of secret rooms seemed ridiculous at first thought, but she<em> was </em>only a teenager. She hadn’t looked at blueprints or a full map of the place - I mean, it was her home - what would she need that for?</p><p>Pacifica also knew that her family had a certain… interest in the occult and the weird, one that she had never really understood. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew that the bizarre triangle creature that had almost destroyed the planet matched up perfectly with her family’s collection of flags and tapestries. Those big pictures had spooked her since she was young; it wasn’t until the arrival of Weirdmageddon that she realised her family really did have a… weird side.</p><p>Kind of similar to the Pines. Lots of stuff she didn’t really understand, bubbling just below the surface of what seemed like a… relatively normal existence. She tried not to think about it. She knew her folks were bad, she knew her family was bad, but… that bad?</p><p>Her eyes glanced up at Dipper, who was already beginning to look half asleep, his hand idly stroking down her hair. A little smile returned to her lips. It felt that, no matter how much she didn’t know, the one thing she was certain of was how much better off she was with him in her life.</p><p>She only wished it could continue forever.</p><p><br/>Slowly, they both faded off to sleep, their mugs of cocoa going cold as night wore on and the shack succumbed to an inevitable nighttime silence. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Generators and Generations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
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    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>“Pacifica. Pacifica! <b>Pacifica</b>!!”</p><p>Pacifica’s eyes shot open to the somewhat abrupt welcome of Mabel rocking her awake. “Wh-”</p><p>“You’re meant to be awake and getting ready for work, Paz! It’s nearly 7!”</p><p>“What?! Why didn’t you wake me?!” She snapped, bolting upright - nearly headbutting the dozing Dipper in the chin. </p><p>Mabel smiled cheekily, holding several polaroids. “You two being together <em> has </em>to go in the scrapbook, Paz. It’s the number one Mabel rule.”</p><p>“You are the absolute worst, Mabel!” Pacifica snapped, waking up Dipper as she scrambled off to the attic bedroom to change.</p><p> </p><p>She was soon in the awkward little bedroom, fumbling into her uniform, brushing her mane of hair and fighting on her waitress shoes before running out of the door, having almost entirely forgotten what had happened last night - and barely, for that matter, acknowledging the fact that she had fallen asleep on an armchair with Dipper in front of everybody in the shack.</p><p>She grabbed her favourite satchel, shoved her lucky sailor’s cap into it and ran out of the door as fast as she could.</p><p>Dipper just blinked, dumbfounded, as Mabel proudly shuffled through her photographs.</p><p>“Wait. Why’s it so dark?”</p><p>“Power’s out. Grunkle Ford is trying to set up his generator but it’s not budging.”</p><p> </p><p>It was times like this that Pacifica was particular glad that Soos had very irresponsibly bought them all individual golf carts; the things weren’t going to set any speed records, but they were sure as heck quicker than walking.</p><p>She groaned to herself, wiping her sleepy eyes as she sped down the quiet Oregon road towards the diner, her brain waking itself with every pothole in the roads as it desperately demanded caffeine provisions.</p><p>Not the best start to the morning, admittedly - but a casual glance soon revealed that the town was in no small amount of disarray. Pacifica climbed out of her (hot pink, of course) Mystery Buggy to find that the town of Gravity Falls was still suffering from the power outage, as the shack had been; though that was unbeknownst to her. </p><p>No lights, no shop signs, not even traffic signals were operating. The townsfolk were all confused, and, outside of Greasy’s, there was already a decent queue forming as the desperate - and equally dimwitted - citizens of Gravity Falls stormed the premises expecting the Diner to provide their breakfast. Quite how they expected that to work, Pacifica hadn’t worked out.</p><p>Regardless, The landmark log was still locked shut, lights off, no familiar smell of bacon and grease - it was deserted, save the sound of scraping behind the flat wagon and its unusual eatery.</p><p>Pacifica raised an eyebrow and walked around the back entrance to Greasy’s kitchen, carefully avoiding the increasingly disheveled gaze of the crowds. Around three large oil cans filled with grease, and an old cooking hob, she made a beeline for the kitchen’s rear entrance - only to find Susan there.</p><p> </p><p>She blinked at the bizarre sight of her boss peering over a great heap of machinery on wheels, half sunken into the floor - with a deep, sunken track leading back into the ramshackle hut that had been sat behind that diner for what felt like forever. </p><p>“Oh, Pacificaaaa! My saaaaaviour!” Susan gushed with her usual, enviable enthusiasm. “Do you know how to work this?”</p><p>There was a pause as Pacifica took in the sight of that beaten up old machine. “What… what’s it for?”</p><p>“Generating!” Susan beamed, proudly. </p><p>Pacifica grimaced and walked around it. </p><p>The filthy generator was a patchwork of parts and bolts, mounted on what looked like an ancient lorry axle. It leaked oil, featured a crooked, hand painted fuel gauge on the side and appeared to be partially built from Tractor guts. </p><p>It also stank fiercely of burning, despite the fact it wasn’t running. The underaged assistant manager took a step back, somewhat fearful the thing was going to collapse if she breathed on that filthy tangle of pipes, vents and more parts. </p><p>“You reckon <em> this </em>is going to power the diner?”</p><p>“This was my grandpa’s, Pacifica! It’s as good as the day he passed away in 1988 from a completely unrelated machinery explosion. I just need to find the pullstring, or the pedals or… whatever it has.”</p><p>This, at least, answered Pacifica’s burning question of what lived in the hut behind Greasy’s. She found it somewhat anticlimactic that it was literally a hunk of junk, but tried to hide her disappointment as Susan messed around with the decrepit machine eagerly.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, her slightly bonkers boss pulled out a filthy old length of twine and gave it a firm yank, the motor rattling and dropping a splash of thick, black oil as it fought against the rude awakening with a loud judder. It was akin to starting a lawn mower. </p><p>Susan gave it another tug, this time causing the motor to explode into life with a thick cloud of clag, smoke pouring out from the old heap as if it was already ablaze. Pacifica was already feeling the urge to take a step back.</p><p>She didn’t really like the idea of Greasy’s catching fire. </p><p>“There we go!” Susan beamed excitedly, tapping the little dial with her finger. “All I need is a multiplug and we can get on with it, Pacificaaa!”</p><p>“G-great."“I’ll give you a free slice of pie as thanks!”</p><p>“I didn’t <em> do </em>anything.”</p><p>“You gave me moral support, sweetie!” Susan replied as she entered the kitchen and began preparing the room for business, her hands still covered in thick, black globs of mechanical grease. “Now let’s get to work.”</p><p>The Northwest heir smiled and did as she was told; though not without another worried glance towards the roaring machine behind the premises. </p><p>
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</p><p>The diner opened late, but the generator - despite its cacophony of clanking and rumbling - did the job well enough. Within time Greasy’s was properly lit, filled with the smell of bacon fat and appreciative townsfolk. It was as if nothing had really changed, in fact - for a town without power, that rattling, groaning lump of junk was a saviour.</p><p>Pacifica kept giving it a worried glance if she ever got the time, but despite the decrepit, crooked and broken nature of the thing, it continued rumbling away contentedly, doing its job obediently - despite its obvious issues.</p><p>By the time their lunch break arrived, the two of them were beaming, swimming in tips and coated in coffee stains. It had been more than a productive morning; it was one of the busiest they'd ever had. Greasy's was practically the only place in town with electricity. </p><p>Pacifica sat on the creaky old wooden steps that led into the kitchen, drinking a lemonade and watching the gas-guzzling monster while Susan poured in another Jerry can. She liked Susan. She had always thought her a complete freak of nature until she started working there, and now? She thought a lot of her - as a boss, as a colleague, even as a mother figure. She had almost called her 'mom' more than once.</p><p>Just like many other people in town, the moment Pacifica had shown signs of reform, Susan had welcomed her. She almost wondered if Gravity Falls would do the same for her Dad if he sought it. After all, he wasn't<em> completely </em>beyond recompense. </p><p>All the same, the discussion earlier had brought up no small amount of curiosity in her. </p><p> </p><p>"Susan, what was your family like?" </p><p>Susan beamed as she took a sip of her coffee. "My grandpappy and pappy were just like me. The apple never falls far from the family tree, you know?" </p><p>Pacifica looked down at the ice in the bottom of her glass.</p><p>"He was a tinkerer, was Grandpappy. Loved to build things, work machines, and loved to cook. He came up with the coffee omelette!" </p><p>"Yeah?" </p><p>"He was a genius before his time!” The older woman grinned excitedly. This diner was his passion. He always told me, 'Sue, you have two things in life, the present and the future. This Diner should be in both of them."</p><p>Susan leaned in the old generator and smiled wistfully as she looked up at the tumbledown structure."He always insisted on being kind and being positive. When <em> your </em>Grandpa tried to buy the Diner in the eighties, he still got a free coffee and a smile."</p><p> </p><p>“...Huh? Wait, wait, back up!”</p><p>Susan obediently took a few steps back. “Like this?”</p><p>“No, I mean- nevermind. My Grandpa tried to buy Greasy’s? Auldman Northwest?!”</p><p>“Sure. He loved this place. He desperately wanted to own it."</p><p>“...Really?” came the young waitress’s reply, glancing at what was - in effect - the massive patch of waste ground that Greasy’s took up, fairly detached from the rest of the town. </p><p>“He was very interested in our little diner, Pacifica. Always coming in, looking around at our decor, all of the upcycled parts, the seats, the kitchen equipment…”</p><p>Pacifica raised an eyebrow. "But why?" </p><p>"Maybe he liked trains." Susan shrugged. </p><p> </p><p>Pacifica had trouble believing any of her relatives had <em> any </em> harmless interests or hobbies along those lines. Something was up. Something stank, and it wasn't the smell of burning erupting from that crooked generator.</p><p>"As I say, Pacifica, the apple never falls far. Why, you work here now! I guess the interest runs in the family, huh?" Susan grinned, holding the coffee jug in her hand, which she had been using to pour water into the leaking radiator. </p><p>Pacifica tried to fight back her anger at being compared to her family - or her sheer panic at being<em> comparable </em> to her family. Her mind - increasingly inquisitive as it was - had started thinking about any circumstances a Northwest would be interested in busted old railroad parts. </p><p>She was naturally protective of Greasy's. It was her second home. It was a place where she got acceptance. </p><p> </p><p>If the sinister Auldman Northwest had an interest in the place, she wanted to know damned well<em> why</em>.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Notepad</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p>
<p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p>
<p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Pacifica returned to her shift, she was all too quick to notice the familiar silhouette of a man, sat against one of the breakfast bar tables, nervously clutching a battered, crackled leather satchel that looked like it smelt like vinegar. </p>
<p>It was a diminutive figure, blatantly trying its best to look as inconspicuous as possible; despite a bulbous nose, tiny body and whiskers. </p>
<p>“Toby!” She snapped. “You know you aren’t allowed in here after the malt spread incident.”</p>
<p>The little man turned his head and looked up at the sharp-tongued waitress like an ashamed labrador, before piping up in his familiar, exciteful drone. "I know that! But I have something to show you! Something you need to take to the Pines right away!"</p>
<p>Pacifica sighed and put her hand on her hip. "Right. Sure."</p>
<p>"It's about your family!" He replied, more enthusiastically. "Your original one! The Northwests!" </p>
<p>"I had already worked that out, Determined. Get on with it." She sighed, having little time for Toby’s unique blend of dramatics and rambling. “What about them?”</p>
<p>“So there I was in my office, working hard on a future Pulitzer prize winner-”</p>
<p>“Your typewriter is a toy, Toby.”</p>
<p>“-And suddenly, my modern office, the heart of our town’s news, the prime high street journalistic location of Oregon, was destroyed by a bolt of lightning, setting the entire high street ablaze!” He grinned, throwing his arms wide. “I barely survived!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Pacifica glared fiercely, prompting the little man to shrink back once again and slip off his hat, releasing a small army of moths. She tried to hide her disgust and contempt for the bizarre faux-paparazzi, but failed miserably.</p>
<p>Finally, looking over his small espresso with an exaggerated sigh, he renounced his secret. “I think your family has a connection with the train crash. And a few other things besides.”</p>
<p>Pacifica’s first instinct was to slap the man across the face and<em> tell him to get out of her diner right this damned second for making such a ridiculous claim- </em></p>
<p>But she didn’t. Instead, she wordlessly refilled his cup, sat down at the breakfast bar and brushed down her apron. “Fine. Tell me.”</p>
<p>“But-but aren’t I banned?”</p>
<p>“I’m making an exception. I’ll relay the stuff to Dipper, but I want to hear it from you first.”</p>
<p>Toby rummaged through his satchel - which, right enough, stank of vinegar - and pulled out a filthy old notebook, with rusted binding and yellowed paper, every page handwritten in surprisingly elegant ink pen, wrapped, as it was, in a thick old newspaper - a copy of what had once been the Gravity Falls Gossiper. </p>
<p>"This is everything you need to know.” He whispered - as if anyone would hear him in the packed diner. “My Grampy hid it in a filing cabinet.”</p>
<p>“Grampy…?” Pacifica was surprised that Toby even<em> had </em>family. He seemed more like the sort of creature that was born out of a swamp rather than one with a genetic heritage. She looked down at the yellow notepad and raised an eyebrow, deciding not to say anything.</p>
<p>Toby nodded sincerely and tapped the small portrait on the newspaper’s header - a sharp featured, handsome man in small glasses with a newsman's hat and flowing hair. Broad shouldered, charismatic… </p>
<p>Pacifica even found herself admiring him. Tobias Determined was… </p>
<p>Tobias Determined was everything Toby<em> wasn’t</em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Northwest heir twisted her lip and looked back up at Toby, who was now drooling. </p>
<p>Pacifica grimaced and gestured to his mouth. “You uh- you’ve got an - uh -” </p>
<p>“Oh, butter biscuits…” he mumbled, wiping his mouth. “That happens when I drink coffee. I think I have allergies!”</p>
<p>“Why don’t you just… like, sleep?”</p>
<p>“The news never sleeps! I have a duty to uphold!” He said proudly, landing a rodentine fist upon the breakfast bar, rattling the salt and pepper shakers.</p>
<p>“...Sure. Sure, Toby.” Pacifica rolled her eyes. “So what’s so great about Tobias Determined?”</p>
<p>“Grampy was the greatest journalist in Oregon.” Toby replied, in a hushed, reverential tone. “Handsome, smart, adored by the people. He uncovered the Sticker Scandal of 1876, the Hellbilly Hunger Strike of 1882, The Beef Tea Blight of 1880 - and became a hero of the town. He kept Gravity Falls safe! The Gossiper was read by<em> thousands</em>. He was a bona-fide celebrity.”</p>
<p>Pacifica blinked, trying to decode each of those so-called historic events, her eyes still fixed on that pen and ink illustration atop the newspaper’s header. “So how come <em> I’ve </em>never heard of him?”</p>
<p>She didn’t mean to sound haughty, but she considered herself pretty well taught about the town and its celebrants. Her family used to own portraits of most of them in the manor, and she was fairly sure she didn’t recognise this stranger. </p>
<p>If she had, she’d have no doubt developed a crush on the portrait.</p>
<p>...Developing crushes on paintings wasn’t very unusual for a kid locked in a manor for most of her life. </p>
<p>Don’t judge. She was a lonely kid. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Toby tapped his fingers together, still acting as if he was being interrogated by the 14 year old.. “He was investigating the weirdness in Gravity Falls.”</p>
<p>“Great. Another Stanford.” She chuckled in response, flicking back her hair. </p>
<p>“But there was something else!” The repulsive reporter added. “He discovered something deeper. He discovered your family had far bigger secrets than The Great Flood. The Northwests were… were…”</p>
<p>The man shrank back again and rubbed his hands together anxiously. </p>
<p>“The Northwests were cultists.”</p>
<p>Pacifica recoiled, wrinkling her nose. “You’re <em> joking</em>, right?”</p>
<p>“No, I’m not! I swear on my grandmother’s raisin muffin recipe!”</p>
<p>“Well, where’s his <em> proof </em>?!”</p>
<p>“It’s in here, it’s in the notepad!”</p>
<p>“You <em> better </em>not be lying to me, Toby!” Pacifica replied, now beginning to raise her voice.</p>
<p>“I’m not! I’m not! I s-s-swear!”</p>
<p>“If you <em> are </em>I’ll personally buy out your newspaper with my pocket change.”</p>
<p>“I know, I know! Please, Pacifica, I didn’t know where else to go! Nobody else would listen to me! Nobody else would even give me the time of day!”</p>
<p>“You’re a reporter, why don’t you report on it?!”</p>
<p>“I can’t! Your family would kill me!”</p>
<p>“Don’t be ridicul-” Pacifica paused and rested her face in her hands, suddenly disarming herself against the effortlessly irritating little man. She took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose as she tried to fight back her temper.</p>
<p>Truth was, the Northwests probably <em> could </em>kill someone like Toby Determined. </p>
<p>Toby looked up at her fearfully, still shrunk back into the little breakfast bar bucket chair made of old railroad car parts. For a moment, Pacifica was finally forced to admit she couldn’t really, reasonably, be angry with the man who brought up all of this history.</p>
<p>After all, as ridiculous as a cult sounded, this was Gravity Falls. As scary as the idea was, she was increasingly dedicated to finding out more about her family’s crooked past. </p>
<p>As reluctant as she was to see such stark answers, she was curious. She had to find out more.</p>
<p>Toby pushed it slowly towards her. “Will… will you take it?”</p>
<p>“...Fine. I-I’ll look into it. Okay? I’ll give it to Dipper and Ford and… and we’ll see what we can work out.” </p>
<p>The crooked little man nodded enthusiastically, poured the coffee into his gaping mouth, and then scarpered out of the diner with all of the grace and elegance of a frightened possum with a defective leg. </p>
<p>Pacifica blinked, before looking back at the little notepad and outsized, broadsheet newspaper folded up around it. She furrowed her brow, and - momentarily - considered throwing the entire lot away.</p>
<p>But that would have been the old, dismissive Pacifica. The new, curious and increasingly investigative Pacifica wrapped it back up carefully, and kept it in her satchel for the rest of her shift, with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had come across something she really shouldn’t have.</p>
<p>A strange nausea that made her feel that, somehow, Toby was not exaggerating. That everything she knew was about to be brought to its knees.</p>
<p>Truth be told, it kind of <em> excited her</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Independent Investigators</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
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</p><p> </p><p>Dipper and Mabel were already on their own way to educating themselves about the Northwests - so to speak. Dipper had made it his mission to learn about the mansion house they were due to investigate, and there was one man that - although he couldn’t be certain - he was pretty sure would know more about that grand building than anyone else in the world. </p><p> </p><p>“So why are we going to Wendy’s cabin? She’s not even going to be there, she’s working-”</p><p>“Mabel, just because we’re going to the Corduroy’s doesn’t mean we’re going to see Wendy.”</p><p>“Haw! Makes a first! So what are we doing there?”</p><p>“If the Grunkles want us to investigate Northwest Manor, I need to know where we’re going.”</p><p>“Straight to the bedroom!” Mabel grinned. </p><p>Dipper choked on his own spit and gave Mabel a slap across the back of the head. “Y-you need to quit with that, Mabel! It’s - it’s embarrassing!”</p><p>“What? I didn’t say what you’d be <em> doing </em>in there, bro-bro.” </p><p>“Look, just...stop, alright? You know what it’s like being in love, you said so yourself. Why do you keep teasing?”</p><p>“Because I’m your sister. It’s my job.” Mabel beamed, in her typical high spirits. It almost seemed as if their rathermore serious conversation last night had been forgotten entirely. “So if we aren’t here for Wendy, what <em> are </em>we here for?”</p><p>“Northwest Manor was built by Lumberfolk, and I’m convinced the Northwest Manor ghost was a Corduroy. There’s a pretty decent chance that Manly Dan knows something we don't about the place.”</p><p>Mabel cocked her head as she followed her determined brother marching through the towering Oregon pines with purpose. “That’s right, he built the Shack, too!”</p><p>“Exactly. The Corduroys have built almost every cabin, hut and house in Gravity Falls, and nobody has ever bothered to ask if they have blueprints. If there’s anyone there who knows about secret rooms in that Mansion, it’s Manly Dan.”</p><p>“Wowowowow, do you think he has plans for anywhere else? Maybe he knows all of the secret hideouts in town!”</p><p>“I mean… maybe. But one thing at a time, okay? You know he can be a bit short tempered.”</p><p>“Please! No man on Earth can resist my adorkable charm!” Mabel replied, skipping up to the cabin and knocking on the door. “I mean, I’m just the-”</p><p> </p><p>The door was opened by one Kevin Corduroy; Wendy’s nearly-14-year-old brother. It was fair to say that Mabel was not prepared for the gappy-toothed teenager with the natty red pompadour. </p><p>The twins were not well acclimated with the other members of the Corduroy family. At most, they were known as a rough family with an aggressive streak - but Wendy’s brothers, outside of being very supportive of their father’s love of punching, were all relative unknowns. </p><p>The middle brother, Kevin, did seem to stand out somewhat, though Dipper and Mabel had never considered it in much detail. Broad shouldered, short, with a sharp chin and well kept hair, Kevin did - in retrospect - seem to be a distinct pretty boy among his brothers.</p><p>While he had never noticed Mabel, and Mabel had never noticed him before, his visage had just hit Mabel with the force of an articulated lorry. </p><p>“...C-c-cutest…” The usually hyperactive Pines twin had suddenly become very quiet, very static, and carried a distinct flush in her cheeks as her eyes met the quizzical brow of the red headed young man.</p><p>“Hi.” Kevin greeted, simply. “Dipper and Mabel, right?”</p><p>“Y-y-you can call me any-” Mabel began replying, before Dipper - thankfully - interrupted. </p><p>“Hey Kevin.” Dipper said. “How’s things?”</p><p>“Decent.” Kevin replied, tucking his ever-faithful comb back into his pocket, glancing momentarily at Mabel and almost immediately causing an eruption of giggles. He decided not to comment on it. “What’re you both doing here?”</p><p>“We’re here to see your Dad. Is he home?”</p><p>“He’s out collecting lumber. He’ll be back soon.” Kevin shrugged. “He likes collecting lumber.”</p><p>“Do you… get through a lot of firewood or something?”</p><p>“I mean he<em> literally </em>collects lumber. It’s his hobby.”</p><p>“...Huh.”</p><p>Kevin beckoned for the two of them to come in with a polite smile. “It’s fine, he likes both of you. As much as Dad can like anyone, anyway.”</p><p>The two twins nervously entered the rustic log cabin, something Dipper was far from used to doing without Wendy’s accompaniment. Frankly, it felt a bit weird being in the house<em> without </em>having a mad crush on the sole Corduroy girl. </p><p>The family’s living room was an immediately infectious blend of flannel and hardwood furniture, every one skillfully carved by Dan, or the eldest brother, Marcus. The smell of pine wood filled every room, creating a surprisingly calm atmosphere in the midst of what seemed to be a particularly chaotic family. </p><p>The cuckoo clock on the wall ticked loudly, there was no television, and there were axes and saws decorating every piece of the building’s interior. That was the first thing that Dipper noticed as they sat on the living room couch, quietly waiting for the lumberjack to arrive. </p><p> </p><p>“So…” Mabel smiled, leaning back over the arm of the couch towards Kevin. “What do you do with your spare time?”</p><p>Kevin blinked and glanced to Dipper, who just shrugged in reply. “I mean, I uh… I sometimes play guitar, I-”</p><p>“Ohmigosh, you’re a musician? Me too!”</p><p>“Really? Heh. Cool.” The large-chinned teenager replied. “You should show me sometime.”</p><p>Mabel giggle-snorted, trying to up her charisma to impress the little man. “Oh I’ll show you lotsa things, Kevin! How about a duet? HAW! I’m kidding. Unless…”</p><p>Kevin barely had time to reply before Gravity Falls’ chief puncher - and chief architect - arrived at the log cabin, through a very forceful encounter with the doorframe, rattling the entire building. </p><p>The middle Corduroy brother wordlessly dusted the sawdust from his hair before jumping off of the armchair and running to greet his dad. </p><p> </p><p>Dipper whipped his head around to Mabel with a knowing grin. “Got a thing for Kevin, huh?”</p><p>“Hey, I like a guy who washes his hair more than once a week, Dipper. More than can be said for Pacifica. He’s cute.”</p><p>“You aren’t even a musician, Mabel. Don’t go into the whole sock puppet mess again.”</p><p>“Whaaaaat? This isn't the same thing. He’s not making out with his guitar. Besides, I can play synth!”</p><p>“You can play ‘Happy Birthday’ and ‘Hey Diddle Diddle.”</p><p>“And that’s more than you can play. So boom! Musician!”</p><p>“Alright, alright. I get it.” Dipper smiled, though it was pretty involuntary. “Just don’t come too hard onto the guy, alright? I think he kinda likes you too.”</p><p>Mabel’s pupils swelled to six times their size. “You think? Omigosh. Omigoshomigoshomigosh-”</p><p>Then, all of a sudden, things went dark.</p><p> </p><p>The voluminous silhouette of Manly Dad Corduroy cast a shadow upon the kids as he entered the doorframe. “DIPPER! MABEL! GOOD TO SEE YOU TWO KIDS BACK IN TOWN!”</p><p>Oh boy. Dipper had almost forgotten how loud - and intimidating - Dan Corduroy could be. </p><p>Even with his presumably friendly greeting, he seemed to be in an almost continuous grimace as he towered over his young visitors, clutching an axe - an axe almost the size of Dipper - in one of his gigantic fists. </p><p>“WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU KIDS?!”</p><p>“Uh, hey there. We’re investigating something, and you were absolutely the best man to help us.”</p><p>Dan picked at his teeth with his axe and pointed out of the room, almost accusingly. “FINE! WE’LL GO TO MY OFFICE! BUT MABEL STAYS HERE!” </p><p>Mabel blinked. “What? Why?”</p><p>“I CAN BARELY FIT IN MY OFFICE ALONE, LITTLE LADY. THE INVESTIGATOR COMES WITH, YOU CAN STAY HERE! KEVIN, GO MAKE A <em> COFFEE </em> FOR OUR <em> GUEST</em>!”</p><p>“Uh… I’m not sure if giving Mabel coffee is a good idea.”</p><p>“BLACK COFFEE IS ALL WE HAVE HERE, KID. I DRINK TWO GALLONS A DAY!”</p><p>“Okay, okay-” </p><p>“NOW COME ON, LET’S GO <em> TALK</em>!!”</p><p>Dipper shrugged and followed the enormous man, obediently - though he couldn’t imagine Dan<em> talking </em>about anything. He wished he had brought earplugs or… something.</p><p>Could 13-year-olds get tinnitus? He sure felt like he could. </p><p>Mabel looked back at Kevin and winked, who simply blushed and stepped back to the kitchen to make her the caffeinated beverage.</p><p><br/>Which definitely, <em> definitely </em>wasn’t a good idea.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Corduroy Legacy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p>
<p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p>
<p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Manly Dan’s office was a small, square room laden with Sev’ral Timez posters and filing cabinets, with a comically small computer desk that was lumbered with a comically large relic of a computer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right enough, there was very little space for the two of them - but Dan strode in confidently and perched himself in the fatigued chair regardless, it groaning in agony as the burly man’s weight hit the polyester padding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“SO WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper scratched his head awkwardly. “Your family built almost every home in Gravity Falls, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“SURE DID, KID. I WOULDN’T LET ANYONE ELSE TOUCH THIS DAMNED TOWN. IT’S OURS!!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-yeah, so.... Northwest Manor’s included. Right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dan Corduroy’s brow lowered into an even more furrowed position than usually carried on that monolithic face. He suddenly broke into a hushed, quiet town, his signature bellow suddenly fading into something that - somehow - felt ten times more sinister. “Northwest Manor?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper almost instinctively stepped back. “Y-yeah, we uh-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We call it the murder mansion.” Dan replied, solemnly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kevin soon ran up the stairs and popped his head in, his fists ready for a major physical confrontation and his gappy teeth gritted. “Dad? You’ve gone quiet! Are you okay?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“GO BACK TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND, KEVIN!!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Girlfriend-?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I KNOW WHAT I SAID! GET DOWNSTAIRS AND HAVE A SLICE OF THE CAKE FROM THE FRIDGE, OR SOMETHING!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure? That’s yours! You bought it for-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“NOTHING IN THIS HOUSE IS OFF LIMITS! YOU </span>
  <em>
    <span>KNOW </span>
  </em>
  <span>THAT! YOU’RE MY FAMILY AND ARE WORTH MORE THAN </span>
  <em>
    <span>ANY </span>
  </em>
  <span>CAKE! I LOVE YOU SON!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too, Dad!” Kevin beamed, running back down the stairs. “Hey Mabel, do you want some cake with your coffee?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Do</span>
  </em>
  <span> I?! Gosh, you sure know how to impress a lady!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper blinked, trying to take in the sheer absurdity of the very compassionate - though very aggressive - bond between lumberjack and son, and tried to give a non-judgemental smile. “S-so… the murder mansion, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Manly Dan sighed. “You really gotta look further, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood, his head brushing against the rafters as he lumbered the two Dan-steps to one of many solid wooden filing cabinets, scraping the heavy drawer open. Inside, there were piles of papers that seemed to expand the moment they left the constructions of the cabinet’s frame. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper glanced over as much as he could, taking in some of the scribbled building names that he almost immediately recognised. Gravity Falls City Hall, the Church, ‘Stanford House and Laboratories’... </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes widened as a particularly large folder was heaved out from the rear of the crate, marked, very clearly, ‘Northwest Manor’. It was rolled and held with a thick length of jute rope, yellowed with age and what looked like a hundred years of dust.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dan blew on it, shoved his heavy old PC off the desk, and began unrolling it in its place. He took another deep breath, his hands briefly squeezing the sides of the desk - which erupted in protest with the sound of splintering. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come take a look, Kid. You can ask anything you like. I’m an open book.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper squeezed around the man’s prominent form and looked upon the enormous blueprints, maps and plans for the town’s most renowned residence. Everything was mapped out intricately - roof tiles, brickwork, rafters and location each mapped out in minute detail, all signed with the name of Archibald Corduroy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew it.” the investigative teenager mumbled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The ghost? Yeah. The Northwest Manor was the death knell for hundreds of lumberfolk; many of them Corduroys. Archibald was the chief architect, chief builder, foreman, you name it. He may not have looked it, but he was an incredible mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper nodded, solemnly, gazing at the intricate plans and artwork for the opulent manor. His encounter with the ghost - as terrifying as it might be - ultimately remained a surprisingly compassionate one. It was difficult for him to really think so harshly of the vengeful spirit considering his gruesome, unpleasant ‘reward’ for his hard work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But… wait. Dan, is this really all there is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dan shook his head and pulled two inconspicuous paper tabs that protruded ever-so-slightly from the blueprint’s edges; as if by magic, the crude papercraft mechanism unfolded the manor down through the hilltop that it sat upon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chamber after chamber opened up below, revealing an intricate labyrinth of dungeons and dramatic stonework. Every room underneath was blackened in thick layers of Indian Ink, all perpetually painted over - </span>
  <em>
    <span>by Order of Nathaniel Northwest. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper audibly gasped. “Wh-what-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dan sat back in his chair and began to recount what he knew. Dipper almost felt himself being plunged into the past, layers of sepia seemingly laying ahead of him as he gazed into one of those antique pictures of the hillside, pre-manor, pre-flood, and - crucially - pre-Northwest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nathaniel Northwest was many things - supposed town founder, wealthy industrialist, investor - but he was, above all else, demented. He believed himself to be a wizard. He believed himself to be in control of Oregon, and the fates that declared the town’s future. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadly, a demented man and money was a dangerous combination. According to Archibald Corduroy, the man was enormously erratic, incredibly arrogant, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>obsessed</span>
  </em>
  <span> with his bizarre beliefs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He demanded that Archibald Corduroy not only make an enormous mansion house with nearly a hundred rooms - he demanded taxidermied animals so he could be closer to the afterlife. He demanded gardens and enormous walls, towering ballrooms that evoked fear and respect in equal measure, decorated with elaborate carvings of everything from wars to ship sinkings. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, most strange of all, he demanded shafts that led to underground chambers. Cellars, made of thick, heavy lumps of granite, carved into the hills, deep below the mansion house, with a cage lift to take him down there, and access roads and wagon ways, hidden into the other sides of the hill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Northwest Manor was less of a typical mansion house - it was a lair. A subterranean nightmare, like depths of hell had burst upwards into the mountain. A volcano of obsession, with spurs and chambers dedicated to the magma of insanity that bubbled inside Nathaniel's mind - composed of tunnels and tracks leading across the town, for reasons the construction teams didn’t really understand. Crews would regularly be rotated, miners brought in to help digging into the hillside, every structural engineer, every geologist and every ecologist’s warnings completely ignored. What used to be ground that was meant to take in the water, meant to lead into the underground springs, streams and rivers of Oregon, meant to go into the water table and harmlessly form part of the town's lifeblood, fabric and ecosystem, was suddenly blocked by granite walls and reinforced chambers, layered with everything from solid steel to obsidian. Throttled out onto the hillside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then, of course, the predictable happened. The Great Flood - and, with it, the great landslide - took place, and took every man who built that mansion house with it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Nathaniel Northwest didn’t do a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The man who claimed to be building a monument for the hard working townspeople was content to watch a fifth of them drown in mud and rainwater as he drank punch and cheated on his wife with a group of lesser-spotted woodpeckers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man was a psychopath. An unflinching, wrenching, grasping fiend filled with hatred and lacking in compassion. A man who insisted on squeezing everything he could out of his fellow man, in a desperate hope to gain and profit - in a desperate hope to appease those he, madly, felt were in control of the world around him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Manor was testament to his furious delusions - his furious convictions in his insane worldview. His furious hatred for his fellow human being. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper stared at the elaborate drawings as Dan finished his - admittedly much less verbose - explanation of the mansion's construction and Archibald's own impressions of Nathaniel Northwest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"But these are like… this is really heavy stuff." Dipper replied. "I mean, I knew the Northwests were-" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dan stood back up and shrugged. He seemed increasingly morose as he recounted the tale, and still spoke with a surprisingly hushed tone that Dipper never thought he'd hear from the testosterone-addled giant. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I don't know all of the story, kid. I just know that our family had a code to never trust a Northwest."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You helped Pacifica, though?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"She's different. You changed all of that at the Northwest Fest last year. She isn't a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> person, she's just a work in progress."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things fell quiet as Dipper momentarily ran out of things to say. He was still kind of shaken up by the entire discussion - and </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredibly </span>
  </em>
  <span>shaken up by the fact Northwest Manor was three, maybe four times the size he </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was… That-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That was a damned big house. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Look." Dan piped back up. "You can take any of this stuff if it helps you. But my advice would be to stay away, kid. I dunno what's in there. McGucket probably doesn't even know. Nobody's sure what Nathaniel actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> underground. I'm not even sure if anyone knows those Chambers existed, apart from us."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper rubbed the back of his neck."I'm uh… I'm sorry. I didn't realise."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dan chuckled. "Who would? We're just the crazy lumberjack family. Good luck solving your mystery, kid."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper smiled and started walking out of the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, and kid?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Huh?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm glad you got over the Wendy thing. That stuff was creepy."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"...Yeah. M-me too." the teenager replied nervously. "thanks, Dan."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper wordlessly walked down the staircase, his mind racing with questions and theories about what he had just learned, what he had just discussed - and the disturbing fact that Manly Dan wasn’t stuck in a constant series of ridiculously loud shouts and hormone-soaked bellows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He momentarily glanced at the pictures of Wendy on the wall and took a deep breath, wondering if - somehow - his life would have been more simple if he’d have just been two years older and had hooked up with the girl of his teenage fantasies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As much as he adored Pacifica with every fibre of his being, he couldn’t deny he was feeling increasingly uncomfortable with how dark that family’s past really was; or how uncertain it really made him feel about everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like, in the end, if he wasn’t in love with Pacifica, all of this… stuff wouldn’t have happened this Summer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t blame her, but… it felt weird, y’know?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And… for that matter, what if Pacifica did know about this crazy junk? What if he’d been tricked? He thought he could trust her to the ends of the Earth, but this stuff - this stuff made him feel nervous. It felt pretty big. As in, secret US President big. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kind of wondered how innocent she could possibly be when she had lived </span>
  <em>
    <span>on top</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the damned place. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He tapped his lip thoughtfully as he stepped into the living room, only to be met by a low-flying coffee can - after all, no corduroy would use a </span>
  <em>
    <span>cup </span>
  </em>
  <span>- that flew against the raw pine walls and clattered to the floor with a hollow clang, spilling a small amount of ground beans onto the floorboards. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am the Goddess of destruction! Bring me six more espressos and another slice of cake!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mabel sat atop Kevin, wearing a frying pan as a helmet and speaking at a rate four times faster than her usual hyperactive tones - with a visible shake in her voice and a rattle to both of her hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dipper! Have you tried coffee!? It tastes like dirt but feels like magic!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-yeah, uh… are you both doing okay?” her perturbed brother replied. “Hell, is Kevin okay…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m feeling fabulous! And he is absolutely the </span>
  <em>
    <span>most </span>
  </em>
  <span>okay person I have ever seen!” She proclaimed loudly, jabbing her hand into the air confidently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kevin laughed out loud as he carried Mabel on his prominent shoulders. “Your sister is the best. She’s just like us!!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How much coffee did you give her…?” Dipper asked, backing away slightly from the chaotic scene. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Half a cup.” Kevin smiled nervously. “I figured that uh… one full cup would be a bit much-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, that was only </span>
  <em>
    <span>half</span>
  </em>
  <span> a cup?! Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>fancy hair</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn’t mean you can hold out on me, Kevin!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think my hair’s fancy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think your hair is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>masterpiece</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” she gushed in response, still flying back and forth between a drunken stupor and a hyperactive machine-gun rattle of vowels and consonants.. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kevin blinked, a gentle red beginning to colour his cheeks. “I mean, I- look, I think you’ve maybe had enough coffee.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wrong!” Mabel replied. “Besides, you know what I’ve got?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A grappling hook. You wanna go swing around like Tarzan and beat up some gnomes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kevin blinked, as if he had just been presented with an epiphany towards his life’s true meaning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“YEAH!” He shouted enthusiastically as they stormed out of the cabin, Mabel still clinging onto his shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper figured that meant he was going to be walking back to the shack alone, and resigned to doing exactly that with a little bit of a smile on his face. It was pretty hard not to find a little bit of happiness in the fact that Mabel was back to her old tricks - this time with somebody he at least knew wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>entirely </span>
  </em>
  <span>crazy. A family he was sure would at least take care of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If nothing else, the boisterous behaviour of the Corduroy family kind of felt like a natural fit for his sister and her natural spirit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What he envied was her joyful confidence - her ability to just dive into her own happiness with barely a single thought for the consequences. He couldn’t help but find it a bit… disquieting to know that they had grown somewhat more separable than they once had been. The more he thought about it, the less he felt like he needed - or even, sometimes, wanted - her by his side all of the time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was feeling himself more and more confused by his place in the world, this summer. Now his family and his loved ones were becoming more and more ingrained as weirdness researchers, his girlfriend’s family was apparently some insane criminal group of masterminds, and - perhaps most worrying of all - the circumstances of ‘Summer’s End’ were feeling bigger and more difficult than ever with every passing adventure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He arrived back at the Shack to Soos, fueling up the (finally repaired) Awesome Express. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey dude."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hi, Soos."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What's poppin'? I'm fitting the train with a stereo sound system, dawg. I drew up the blueprints on a napkin."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"D-don't mention blueprints."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh. Sorry bro." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soos shrugged and went back to his business. The new Mr. Mystery had developed a pretty fine set of skills when it came to not getting himself involved without being prompted. It meant he could concentrate on his business and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> get endlessly distracted by the Pines. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper sat down and watched the rotund man tinkering with the little engine with a sigh. "Soos, you ever wonder if Melody and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>aren't</span>
  </em>
  <span> a perfect fit?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soos nearly split one of the fuel hoses with his screwdriver and whipped his head around. "Huh? Dude, Melody and I, we're like ketchup and mustard. We're, like, different, sure - but we make a </span>
  <em>
    <span>taste sensation</span>
  </em>
  <span> when mixed together. We're about as good as it gets, dawg. Not even the store brand, I'm talking like… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Artisan Deli </span>
  </em>
  <span>Condiments."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper rested his chin on his hand and watched the man in the Fez tinker with the motor that sat inside the miniature engine. It looked irresistibly like it came from a ride-on lawnmower or something."But… doesn't it feel a bit… Y'know. Difficult? Having everything change so suddenly?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soos shrugged and sat back, wiping his hands. "I mean, it's always difficult to deal with change, dude. Melody's the biggest thing that's ever happened to me, even with the Shack, all of the crazy stuff we did together, beavers with chainsaws - y'know?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, doesn't that feel weird? Having someone come in and feel more important than your old life? Like, disrupting everything?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Dude, I don't wanna be derogatory or nothing, but you're only young. Pacifica’s only, like, the first big change you're gonna go through. Puberty is gonna hit you like a brick, dawg!!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heh. I’m already feeling-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Awkward and sweaty?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Awkward and sweaty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Been there, dude. Just wait until you start noticing girls in that way, dawg. I’m talking like, drooling city, bro-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Soos. Soos, enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry dude. Pass the hackwrench?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...This is a spanner with a picture of a computer taped onto it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soos immediately broke into hysterics, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. “Funny, right bro?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Public Relations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p>
<p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p>
<p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Preston strolled down Gravity Falls high street with Priscilla’s arm linked with his, both trying to keep their noses high and their stance stiff, disciplined and dignified, ignoring the increasingly unwelcoming stares of the townspeople.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Priscilla, being the far more self assured - and far less egregious than her almost militantly despicable husband - was somewhat confused by the town’s increasingly embittered stance towards their family - and even more startled by the signs in shop and restaurant windows that proclaimed him banned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Preston, is there something you haven’t told me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just business issues, Priscilla. It’ll clear up. It always does.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You owe them money?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no. They’re just convinced we’re some sort of ogre.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Priscilla grimaced - at least, as much as she was actually able to grimace. “Perhaps we should hire a marketing team. You know, get some PR? We could use that lady who works for the Government, she did some </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful </span>
  </em>
  <span>cover stories.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, darling. It’d be wasted in this town. We have our own PR firm here, and he’ll work for free, remember?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Prestie, please. I’d rather not visit him again. He’s horrid! The drooling, the snorting, and the smell…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He gets the job done for a good price, my dear. We have a history.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just don’t think that dealing with these monsters is good for our image, that’s all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She held onto Preston’s arm fearfully as he descended into what felt like the pits of hell, into the darkest pits of the Oregon town through that tumbledown, wooden structure - encountering a fearful silhouette, lurking in the still omni-present darkness, fuelled by the powercut that was still haunting the town. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to ask your services again.” Preston said, his stiff upper lip twisting somewhat as he gazed at the grotesque features of his contact. “The people are revolting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve tried the usual charitable donations?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m no longer willing to spend money on giving charity to low lifes.” Preston snorted. “That’s why I’m here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a long, tense pause as the creature subject to Preston’s words considered them - ruminated on the situation with an increasingly fraught, snorting breath - thin streaks of saliva dripping from its wide, frowning mouth. </span>
  <span>“...Fine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“For pity’s sake, dry your mouth, Toby.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“S-sorry. It happens when I drink coffee. I think I have allergies!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Preston sighed and held the bridge of his nose. “You really are the most pathetic individual I’ve ever met, Determined. Will you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>please </span>
  </em>
  <span>get some of your poorly written tripe cobbled together? Your newspaper hasn’t written anything about us in weeks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Toby bowed his head. “I- I’m sorry, Mr. Northwest, but you just don’t sell newspapers anymore. People want more material from Pacifica and her famil-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused, staring up fearfully at the sudden, burning glare from the Northwest patriarch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...The family that she lives with.” he murmured. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Preston snarled and grabbed the ugly little man by his suspenders. “Listen to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you little twerp. You aren’t to do anything with my daughter, or that wretched pauper’s family.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-I-I haven’t done anything! I’m innocent!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You Determineds have </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>been innocent, and you know it, Toby. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>owe </span>
  </em>
  <span>us. You work for us. And If I ever see you trying to fraternise with those crooks, I’ll see to it that you lose that precious newspaper. Do I make myself clear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You do! You do! Oh marbles, I’m sorry! I would never go against you, Preston!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.” Preston growled. “Keep it that way.” He threw the little man back into his chair, letting it reel back on its plastic castors and into the cheap wood panel walls that made up the Gossiper’s office. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two socialites twisted on their heels and began walking out of the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“W-what do you want the article to be about?” Toby asked, his voice now quivering. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Make it any sort of basic fluff piece, Determined. Talk about one of my wife’s dresses, or her shoes, or my moustache wax - I don’t care. Just make it positive, and make it sell.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can- can I at least have some money for a billboard?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Preston paused in the doorway and gritted his teeth, his fists clenched together and his shoulders rankling. “Fine. You can have your damned billboard. But I want us on it. Not Pacifica. Do you understand?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I understand. Thank you, Mr. Northwest! Thank you!!” Toby nodded enthusiastically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You make me sick, Toby. Don’t take this as our partnership being mended. It isn’t. The moment you cross me, I’ll drop you. And you know what happens when I drop people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The-they hit the bottom.” The little man sighed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yes, well done, Toby. And then....” The older man grinned deviously, his eyes being caught in the light as he pulled a cheap cigarillo from his blazer’s inner breast pocket. “...They tend to break.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Toby shivered as the wealthy couple left his premises, being left in the dark at his ramshackle desk, a dull gust of wind blowing through the imitation tarpaulin that was acting as his roof, and a hollow pit in his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked down at the ink pen on his desk and took a deep breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll see how much PR it takes when the Pines rumble you.” the journalist mumbled. “You’ll rue the day you took on the razz-dazzler!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Those warnings, of course, went unheard. Probably just as well. The Northwests wouldn’t have taken them seriously, anyway.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I do love it when you’re forceful, Preston, but I dare say that all felt rather violent. I almost felt sorry for the man. Are you sure there’s nothing you aren’t telling me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no, dear. It’s just the usual day-to-day, that’s all. It’s how you’ve got to approach some of these people. They can be awfully stubborn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, sweetheart. I’ve never seen Toby act particularly rebellious...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trust me, my darling. The trick is to not even give them the opportunity.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two continued their stroll through the town, narrowly circumventing all manner of unwanted confrontations - such as the still-work-in progress Gerron street, the wreck of what was intended to be a burger restaurant, and, crucially, avoiding the side of the street that ran against Greasy’s Diner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadly, the - ultimately, softer and more compassionate - Priscilla was far less reluctant. In fact, she still found the concept of her daughter working there more… </span>
  <em>
    <span>curious</span>
  </em>
  <span> than egregious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We could always go visit her, darling. She is our daughter, after all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Priscilla, I’m not willing to enter that slovenly establishment for love nor money.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, come now. I’m told the food is rather good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Greasy rubbish. The clue is in the name, my dear. It isn’t worth visiting for the food, believe me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, for Pacifica, then? Come now, Preston. I’m sure you miss her too.” She replied, pointing as subtly as she could towards the left-most window of the crooked little building. If one, really, could call it a building. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Preston sighed, and glanced over to the restaurant at Priscilla’s behest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A familiar figure stood by one of the windows, taking an order, dressed in her pink waitress frock. His estranged daughter was there, clear to view, bright as day, writing down the grease-addled foods ordered by the disgusting, disrespectful peasants that tended to visit the decrepit little diner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The failed tycoon’s brow lowered and his lip twisted into a sneer as he looked upon what had once been his most powerful bargaining tool, every ounce of frustration, even anger, bubbling to the surface momentarily as he took in the view of the blonde going about her business - while his wife peered over his shoulder with a far friendlier demeanour.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica, at last, noticed - and looked out of the window at her parents with an obvious level of discomfort. Finally, she blinked and raised a hand in a weak, polite little wave and a concerned smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Preston didn’t say another word, and kept walking - his confused wife in tow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clearly, today was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>a day to reinforce connections.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Grunkly Advice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p>
<p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p>
<p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Still feeling disconcerted about what he’d seen, Dipper had opted to consider asking his Grunkles for advice. However, he couldn’t help but feel… somewhat </span>
  <em>
    <span>defensive </span>
  </em>
  <span>of what had become his exclusive peep into the hidden world of the Northwest family. <br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After all, he was the weirdness hunter; the </span>
  <em>
    <span>expert</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Dipper Pines was convinced that for him to really advance his career, really try and become the next generation’s example of Grunkle Ford, he had to keep his newly gotten knowledge a secret, and delve into the secret chambers without anyone else knowing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could find it with his girlfriend, prove to everyone who the top dog really was, and flip over the greatest secret of her family ever. If she didn’t already know. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...Which still worried him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How could she </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>know?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had only taken him a few weeks living in his Grunkle’s home to uncover a litany of secrets built into that shack. How could Pacifica - who he’d quickly learnt had a bit of an inbuilt investigative streak - not have uncovered all of those tunnels and secret rooms?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps, he rationalised, it was as simple as her folks not being told by their predecessors. Sure, it made sense at first, but again, surely - surely no people would be so stupid, so incompetent, so oblivious to miss a giant series of underground chambers?!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Plus, from what Ford had written in the third journal, Preston seemed </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>aware of his family’s past even when he was a kid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kind of figured that meant Pacifica would be the same… but that night, at Northwest Fest, she had seemed genuinely surprised. Genuinely shaken up and angry. She had seemed to have genuinely reformed…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But what if?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slapped the side of his head, as if he was trying to hammer the thought out of his head. He just wasn’t very good at this trusting thing, he guessed. Hell, he wished he was, he just… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He really, really, really wished he was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tapped his fingers together as he thought over what he knew, gazing at the Northwest focused pages of Ford’s research. He was barely aware that his Grunkle was peering over his shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Something on your mind, Dipper?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper flinched and slammed his hands down on the papers. “No! No, nothing at all!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah. Like that, is it?” Ford smiled, taking a seat at the table. “I find a good remedy for ‘nothing’ tends to be talking about your problems.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper bit his lip. “I really- look, Grunkle Ford, I know you aren’t a fan of the Northwests.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s fair to say.” Stanford chuckled, deftly spinning the pen between his fingers. “I consider the family a blight, Dipper. They’re a plague on the town, on the state, on the country. Nothing good comes from people like the Northwests…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But what about-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ahp-ahp. Let me finish. Nothing good, except Pacifica Northwest.” the older man smiled, warmly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if she </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>been keeping secrets from us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ford smirked. “You’re very much like I was when I was younger. Dipper, Pacifica is many things, but I doubt she has the skills to fake how she feels about you. She has a moral backbone. Frankly, I think you know that better than </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>of us do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But we’re going into her </span>
  <em>
    <span>house</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Like… what if there’s something we don’t expect? What if there’s more to the Northwests? Something we don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to find out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, frankly, Dipper? Nothing is more possible. The difference is I think </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’ll </span>
  </em>
  <span>be discovering this stuff for the first time, too. When I met Preston all of those years ago, he felt like a very different person to your girlfriend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ever-neurotically nervous teen blushed a little and squirmed in his seat. ‘Girlfriend’ still felt bizarre. It had been weeks. Was it normal to still feel a little uncomfortable about this stuff? “I don’t know, Grunkle Ford. I’m just not sure if-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dipper. I know what a barefaced liar and manipulator looks like. I just so happened to be related to one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grunkle Stan walked past and snorted, scratching himself. “Shut your trap, Sixer.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper smiled up at the ageingscientist. “Have you ever had a girlfriend you’re certain is a good person, but comes with a lot of baggage…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a pause. The teenager kind of knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>what he was asking about and was more than grateful for the chance to listen. It would at least feel a little less awkward than talking about Pacifica. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ford looked at the pencil between his fingers and sighed. “She was a Siren. I’m sure you’ve already read that much. It was difficult, keeping it together with somebody who’s heritage was trying to capture random men at sea for centuries. She wanted to turn her life around, get into telemarketing…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper was rather excited to have a bit more clarity on some of the more bizarre elements of Journal 1 from Ford’s own voice, though somewhat freaked out by his choice of romantic partner. “So uh… what happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ford shrugged with a casual smile that seemed to treat the idea of dating a mythical beast as completely par for the course. “I think the issue was I craved the </span>
  <em>
    <span>adventure </span>
  </em>
  <span>of being close to a Siren as opposed to actually being in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>relationship</span>
  </em>
  <span>. When that adventure was taken away, and things became more mundane, I realised that it really wasn’t for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper looked back down at the paperwork. It was, what, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>third </span>
  </em>
  <span>time he had turned to somebody more experienced for advice? In the space of a day? He needed to get his act together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, the talk about the Siren felt pretty relevant.  He didn’t… </span>
  <em>
    <span>dislike </span>
  </em>
  <span>the adventure that came from being madly infatuated with a Northwest. He didn’t even dislike the celebrity, or glamour associated with it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kind of liked it. It kind of made him feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>important</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The scientist took off his glasses and wiped them. “Between you and me, Dipper, I think I’m more of a bachelor than a dating prospect. I’ve had a few… ahm. Experiences. A few flings. But I’ve never actually seen a future </span>
  <em>
    <span>with </span>
  </em>
  <span>somebody. As a matter of fact, I don’t believe there’ll ever be a Mrs. Stanford Pines. Or a Mr. Stanford Pines - or anything between.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper huffed. “How do I know Pacifica could be a Mrs. Pines?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, she definitely doesn’t try to call herself a Northwest anymore. Do you think Preston Northwest would ever disavow his surname?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, never.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then think about it - if Pacifica is tied to her family in the same way as her father, and is so content to turn such a long con - why would she publicly do exactly that? You know as well as I do that it’s illogical.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper just shrugged, keeping his eyes fixed to the papers as if he was being given a lecture. Truth be told, he didn’t want to be right - of course not. He just didn’t like the idea of confronting the fact his own maddening paranoia was still alive and well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Damned stubborn teenagers</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Stanford thought to himself, his face beginning to betray those first, niggling fibres of frustration. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. Do you not think your Grunkle Stan would be able to see right through it? That man has found transparency in every salesman, con-man and business venture that has ever come through this town. He’d be able to tell a fourteen year old running a hustle from six states away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just… worried. That’s all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mark my words, if you let it plague you too much, there’s only one person who’ll get hurt, Mason Pines. And I’m not allowing that to happen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper flinched at the use of his real name almost as a reflex. “Me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Ford replied, sternly. “You’ll hurt Pacifica. The one person who’s had no part in it. Do you really want to do that over your own suspicions?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>discover things in that mansion house, Mason. I guarantee it. But the real mystery is why you can’t trust somebody who’s now put themselves on the line </span>
  <em>
    <span>repeatedly </span>
  </em>
  <span>for you. You trust Mabel, you trust me, you trust your Grunkle Stan - and we’ve all made </span>
  <em>
    <span>plenty </span>
  </em>
  <span>of mistakes. Do you not think it’s time you exonerated somebody you’re in love with?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper watched as his Grunkle stood up, cracked his back, and trudged away - his now trademark hobble clearly on display as he left the room. He couldn’t help but wonder if Ford would feel the same way, knowing what lurked under that Gothic manor atop the mountain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All the same, he was beginning to feel a bit foolish. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Long Con</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p>
<p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p>
<p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The golf cart rumbled down the gravel road towards the shack as Pacifica’s mind wandered back to the notepad and newspaper - both of which felt like they were both burning a hole in her satchel. She was desperately excited to dive into it with Dipper and start investigating the real ins and outs of the Determineds’ research. </p>
<p>She was convinced it could go two ways - either a startling look into the hidden life of her family’s past…or a horrific delusion from an insane Edwardian era newspaper journalist. Either way, it’d probably be a pretty gripping read. </p>
<p>She was also pretty pleased with her progress learning how to drive one of these blasted things. She’d only hit one gnome and dented Stan’s car twice since Soos handed her the keys, and the latter were practically invisible if you squinted. </p>
<p>Never mind that she wasn’t <em> entirely </em>convinced that someone her age could legally drive a golf cart on the open road. But then, who was going to stop her? Blubs and Durland? Yeah, sure. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She reversed into the private part of the Shack’s car park confidently, only narrowly scraping Soos’s airstream. The man in the fez stepped out of the shack’s gift shop just in time to see sparks fly from between the two vehicles. </p>
<p>“Wow, dude! If you came any closer we’d be like, glitching together. Like a video game.”</p>
<p>Pacifica cringed and tried to hide her embarrassment with her fringe. “S-sorry, Soos! I’m still getting the hang of this stuff! I-I-I can pay for that!”</p>
<p>Soos replied with his usual jovial enthusiasm. “Na dude, the distressed look is on point. I want to do one of those horror mazes this year. My entire home could be a prop!”</p>
<p>“...Does anything actually annoy you?” She asked, climbing out of the far side of the buggy. </p>
<p>“Fast food places that only deliver to a radius like, 0.1 miles away from my location.” Soos replied without a moment’s hesitation, his face dropping from its usual carefree stance into a stoney, deadpan expression.</p>
<p>Pacifica blinked, but found herself nodding understandingly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I mean that’s, what, ten cents in gas? If there’s one thing you guys have taught me, these big corporations don’t care about the little dude, girl-dude.” Soos shrugged. “So how was your day?”</p>
<p>“Oh uh… y’know. Bit here and there.”</p>
<p>“I feel that. I had a tourist today who asked if the Awesome Express was carbon neutral. I didn’t even know it had any carbon in the thing.” He shrugged.”What’s happened?”</p>
<p>“Toby Determined happened.” She sighed. “Soos, you’ve lived here all of your life, right?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, dude.”</p>
<p>“Ever heard of Tobias Determined?”</p>
<p>“Naw. Only Toby.”</p>
<p>“Great. Thanks.” Pacifica huffed. “I brought you a bag of leftover chilli fries, by the way, it’s in the back.”</p>
<p>“Oh man, you’re my <em> saviour</em>, Paz. I’d like, trust you with my life.” Soos beamed, practically pouncing into the golf cart. Any apparent interest in further questioning had been quashed by the promise of Greasy’s mystery meat and mystery chilli sauce on their famous mystery fries. </p>
<p>“Hey, no problem. Is Dipper home?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but he’s feeling pretty down in the dumps, dude. I think he might need some lovin’, if you know what I mean. Haw!”</p>
<p>Pacifica blushed furiously. “<em> What?! </em>”</p>
<p>“I said what I said!” Soos replied, his mouth now half full of chilli fries and overly-copious amounts of melted cheese. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Pacifica went inside, leaving the ever-pleasant man to his stale, slightly cold fries with a bright red hue on her face and a very discreet smile curling on her lips. She giggled to herself and went to try and find Dipper the moment she stepped over the threshold. </p>
<p>She didn’t need to look far. </p>
<p>Dipper was still sat at the little breakfast table in the living room, peering over paperwork with a face like thunder. </p>
<p>“Dipper!” She smiled, enthusiastically and bounded towards him - only to stop and cock her head as she realised his rather embittered expression - and almost complete lack of reaction from her arrival home. “...Hi?”</p>
<p>“Hi, Pacifica.”</p>
<p>“What’s up?”</p>
<p>“Just things. Don’t worry about it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Pacifica was no slouch. Quite literally. She arched her back and peered over her boyfriend’s shoulder, immediately recognising the Northwest documents Grunkle Ford kept so fastidiously filed downstairs. </p>
<p>She twisted her lip. “Seems like a lot of things you’ve got there… anything you wanna tell me?”</p>
<p>“No.” </p>
<p>“....Dipper?”</p>
<p>“Pacifica, I-” </p>
<p>The paranoid teenager turned to face her, having to work up the courage to cast his gaze upon her. There was an awkward pause as their eyes met, Pacifica becoming increasingly uncomfortable as her boyfriend barely even managed to smile. </p>
<p>The tension felt so heavy you’d need an axe to slice through it. Pacifica wordlessly put down her satchel and stepped closer, placing a hand on his chin and looking into his eyes.</p>
<p>Dipper looked up at her - and melted. Even the most stubborn mind had little retort or authority against the face of the person he was in love with, no matter how many internal trust issues were ruling over his thought process. </p>
<p>“Pacifica, you wouldn’t lie to me, right?”</p>
<p>“What? ...Dipper, you’re worrying me. What is it?” </p>
<p>“I just need an honest answer. Is there anything we’re going to find in your mansion that you haven’t told me?”</p>
<p>Pacifica raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”</p>
<p>“Like… secrets. Family secrets you wouldn’t want us to find.”</p>
<p>She giggled. “Hon, seriously. I’m all for finding out family secrets. In fact, that’s what I wanted to show you-” </p>
<p>“I just want to make sure you aren’t <em>conning</em> us or something.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She was just pulling the notepad out of her satchel when he spoke - and promptly froze. “<em> What</em>.”</p>
<p>That… that was not something she expected. And try as hard as she might to keep her reaction under, it made her angry. Conning them? Conning the Pines? Why would she? What was she meant to get out of it? </p>
<p>Her brow furrowed as she let the notepad fall back into her satchel. “What the hell?” </p>
<p>“I just want to make sure you’re-”</p>
<p>“No. Nonono, you don’t get away with that, mister. I get being paranoid, I get that I’ve made mistakes, I get that you might not be entirely trusting. Alright? I get it. But paranoid over me <em> conning </em> you and your family? For what? What would I be conning you guys for? You think I just dropped my old life for what, a <em> prank</em>? Do you think I’m in leagues with my Dad?!”</p>
<p>Dipper’s face dropped. “Hey, look, you are still a <em> Northwest </em>, Pacifica! You’ll forgive me for thinking there might still be a bad side to you! The apple never falls-”</p>
<p>She jabbed him firmly in the chest and glared. “Don’t. Don’t you <em> dare</em>. I’m not conning you, Dipper. I love you. I love your family. I love everything about this place, but don’t you <em> dare </em>think I’d leave my stuff behind just to prank you.”</p>
<p>Dipper was a stubborn kid with a pretty fierce set of standards, morals and thought processes. But there were few things scarier - or more convincing - than a Northwest getting into your face with genuine <em> anger </em> and genuine <em> hurt </em>in her eyes. </p>
<p>He almost instantly backed down into his seat. “O-okay. Okay, I’m sorry, I-”</p>
<p>“It’s been <em> weeks</em>, Dipper. I’ve changed. Maybe it’s time you did.” She replied, leaning over him, her hands clenched into fists - and a slight swelling of tears in her eyes.</p>
<p>“Okay. I’ll uh… I’ll try to- “ Dipper stammered - before noticing Pacifica’s hand still floating by her bag. “So what were you gonna show me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Tactless</em>.</p>
<p><em> Tactless and </em> <b> <em>stupid</em></b><em>. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Pacifica simply told him to ‘get bent’, span on her heel and stormed up to the bedroom, her satchel firmly in her hands and her waitress shoes stomping up every single step, leaving the suitably - and, some might say deservedly - distraught Dipper sat in the living room.</p>
<p>Stan, quite without warning, popped his head out of the kitchen, and glared at his Great Nephew, his eyes piercing the kid as if he could see right to the bottom of him. “Nice going, kid. That was a trainwreck. And I’ve caused a trainwreck.”</p>
<p>Dipper just took a deep breath, buried his head in his hands and groaned. It would be fair to say he could have handled that better. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Into the Notepad</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p>
<p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p>
<p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A tear dripped onto the old paper as a perfectly manicured nail turned the page. </p>
<p>
  <em> Stupid Dipper. </em>
</p>
<p>Pacifica was hunched up in her bed, her nightshirt pulled over her knees as she flipped through the notepad, trying to put together the story of Tobias Determined and his research. It wasn’t as easy to follow as she had expected.</p>
<p>Tobias wrote with beautiful handwriting, with a very genuine pride and charisma that felt befitting of the chiselled portrait on the old newspaper. All the same, he was - like Dipper - prone to running off on chains of thought, onto bizarre tangents that seemed fuelled by paranoia, suspicion and fear.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, every time it reminded her of Dipper, she felt herself getting upset again. It was only her desperately investigative mindset that fuelled her to continue.</p>
<p>She <em> wasn’t </em>conning the Pines. She knew that. She loved the Pines family. She adored Dipper. She loved everything about this crooked little wooden hovel and the people who lived there. To have that questioned didn’t just anger her, it frustrated her.</p>
<p>She sniffed and wiped her eyes as she put down the notepad for a spell.</p>
<p>She <em> knew </em> she’d been a bad person. She understood that Dipper wouldn’t drop some of the things they’d been through, and she knew that he wouldn’t forget how she used to be <em> as </em>a person - how she used to treat people.</p>
<p>But she knew for a fact, this time, that she hadn’t done anything wrong. She really <em> didn’t </em>know what else could be in that mansion. </p>
<p>Dipper barely seemed to acknowledge the fact that she had Preston Northwest as a dad. Somebody who had used a bell to control her, somebody who gave endless commands and instructions - somebody who ruled with an iron fist. How could he forget that?</p>
<p>Pacifica wasn’t some sort of rebel. She wasn’t raised to go against her family. She had been taught to do exactly the opposite, no matter how minor those rebellions could be. She would barely dare to go against her mother’s choice of colour scheme, let alone just… go exploring in that nightmarish labyrinth of woodsman chic decor. </p>
<p>With so many rooms, so many corridors, her Dad always told her it was pointless to go nosing around. The building was built to such excess and overindulgence that she was pretty sure she could get lost there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve, before very rapidly realising how <em> gross </em>that was and cursing herself for it. </p>
<p>It shamed her to think it, but she had never explored that mansion any further than Dipper had during that Northwest Fest. She didn’t know <em> anything </em>about the place. She hadn’t even heard of The Great Flood until that weird ghost turned up. Which, in retrospect, made her feel dumb. It made her feel ridiculously dumb.</p>
<p>The young blonde had lived there all her life in innocent bliss. Pure ignorance. Which is why she had been so damned excited to see for herself, even if the concept <em> did </em> scare her. She found <em> all </em> of these discoveries exciting. It was weird, it was creepy, it was bizarre and it freaked her out, but she wanted to <em> learn </em>. She wanted to match up to the Pines, stop worrying about being a nerd or a geek and instead worry about how awesome this secretive world of stories and cover-ups really was. </p>
<p>Her eyes floated back down the scraps of paper in their rusted metal binding.</p>
<p>This notepad could be the most thrilling - and most terrifying - thing she had ever found, and Dipper wasn’t even there to join her. Dipper wasn’t even there to calm her down.</p>
<p>She felt betrayed. She felt betrayed and she felt <em> angry </em> . She briefly considered going back downstairs to talk to him, but quickly shut the thought out of her mind. No, she hadn’t actually done anything wrong. There was nothing to talk about. Just once, Pacifica was pretty sure Dipper needed to come and apologise to <em> her </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a pause as she collected her thoughts and steeled herself, hoping to take a running jump at the handwritten notes and records and start her investigation. </p>
<p>Deep breaths. Deep breaths. </p>
<p>She lifted it back up and flipped the page, only to be greeted by a familiar visage. Tobias Determined had started his notepad with a sketch that anyone in town would recognise; a yellow triangle with top hat and bow tie, staring out with a single eye. </p>
<p>She froze briefly as her eyes met the drawing, memories of Weirdmageddon, of her Dad’s facial features, of the battle for Gravity Falls, of the disastrous couple of days that almost destroyed her and everything she loved (and hated, but that was relatively unimportant.)</p>
<p>If there was one thing she knew the Pines were scared of, it was Bill. She knew Dipper and Mabel were both prone to nightmares about it. She knew that neither even liked to mention his name. </p>
<p>Bill Cipher may be gone - and everyone was pretty confident in the idea he was <em> definitely </em>gone - but his legacy was a haunted community in Oregon that could never shake off that overbearing feeling of dread and sinister memory.</p>
<p>Perhaps The Blind Eye society would have been useful post-Weirdmageddon…</p>
<p>The town <em> itself </em>found that geometric, bow tie donning demon a terrifying presence in their lives; a long-standing trauma that never seemed to stop haunting them. A trauma that went back hundreds of years... so said the words of Tobias Determined. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b> <em>This strange cyclopian animal - for it most certainly doesn’t resemble a man - has appeared in our town’s historic relics and ancient papers for centuries, yet I am yet to see any such thing lurking in our forests or caverns. </em> </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>I’ve spent many months, now, researching among the older, better educated families of Gravity Falls, eager to find a contact who may be able to elucidate this so-called ‘Cipher’. I am of the opinion that this may be a lost piece of folklore.</em> </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>All those who know of the Cipher have told me to approach the Northwest Family, who are arguably among the most educated regarding our town’s history - having, supposedly, lived in the area of Oregon decades before the day that <strike>Quentin Trembley</strike> Nathaniel Northwest founded the township.</em> </b>
</p>
<p><b> <em>I’m afraid to say that my relationship with the Northwests is very strained. They know that I have little faith or belief in their family’s propaganda, and little time for their monopolised industry over our locale. </em> </b> <b></b></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Pacifica grimaced. She still found more than a little discomfort in coming face to face with her family’s past - and, right now, felt more troubled by it than ever. The words that had seemingly run like a theme throughout her day - ‘the apple never falls far from the family tree’ - was echoing in her head and doing so with increasing volume and tenacity. </p>
<p>Another tear dropped onto the page. She cursed herself and scooted back against her pillows on the bed, burying her head into her arms. </p>
<p>She only needed a minute alone. That’s all. </p>
<p>Of course, Pacifica lived in a room with Mabel, and Mabel had basically had one of the most amazing days ever.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mabel also happened to arrive at exactly that moment, running in covered in grass stains and bruises with the biggest grin Pacifica had ever seen on her. And that was quite an achievement. </p>
<p>“Omigoshomigoshomigosh Pacifica, you won’t <em> believe </em>the day I’ve had!!” The motor-mouthed Pines twin rattled off as she started bouncing on the bed. </p>
<p>There was a pause as her caffeine-addled-brain began to compute the scene in front of her. Mabel may have been a ham, but she was no dunce. She stopped grinning, and immediately went to her best friend (and ex-frenemy), sitting alongside her. </p>
<p>“What’s wrong, Paz?” She asked, trying to peer between Pacifica’s arms to see her face. “Paz?”</p>
<p>“It’s nothing. Your brother just…”</p>
<p>“My brother just…?” Mabel echoed, her brow beginning to furrow into a look of exasperation - though very little surprise. Mabel was no stranger to her brother’s stubborn mood swings. “My brother did <em> what </em>?”</p>
<p>“...Your brother asked me if I was conning you all today.”</p>
<p>Mabel’s mouth hung open in response, closing only when she blinked and gave herself a moment to think it over. “I mean… I guess I can see why he’d ask, but-”</p>
<p>“That’s why I hate it so much.” Pacifica whimpered, peering up over her sleeves. “I know why he thinks it.”</p>
<p>“But you’ve changed, Pacifica! You’re, like, all of the sass and none of the bitterness! I mean, I totally trust you. You’re nothing like your folks.”</p>
<p>“And what if I am? What if I’m just a bad person pretending to be something I’m not?”</p>
<p>“You aren’t a bad person, Pacifica. You’re just learning to be a better one. Do you have any idea how miserable Dipper was while we were away from town? I think he was <em> totally </em>crushing on you.”</p>
<p>“Pft.” Pacifica smiled. “You’re sweet, but you’re a liar.”</p>
<p>“Nu-uh. I’m an expert in my bro, Paz. I know exactly how his mind works. Dipper’s just scared of being caught out by things, scared of being tricked. Y’know?”</p>
<p>“I get that. But-”</p>
<p>“He likes to think everything has some kind of dark, hidden past. You should see the forums he posts on! If he was dumber, he’d be wearing a tinfoil hat and campaigning against cellphone masts.”</p>
<p>“I know. I uh… I found a lot of his accounts after Summer.” Pacifica sniffled with a smile on her face, wiping her eyes.</p>
<p>“Whoa. You were an internet stalker!” Mabel gave one of her trademark over-scandalised gasps. “You really were crazy for him, huh?”</p>
<p>“Pft, I-”</p>
<p>“He kept up with your blog too. I think he liked your writing even if he had no idea about fashion or horses and… stuff.”</p>
<p>Pacifica wiped her eyes some more and smiled, resting her head on her hand. “I guess I do like blogging and stuff. I didn’t realise he read it.”</p>
<p>“Wow, two internet stalker nerds. It’s like a 21st century romance.” Mabel giggled. </p>
<p>Pacifica gave a weak smile, her mood already beginning to lift, and slowly, she felt herself loosening back up a bit in a more relaxed, more determined composure. </p>
<p>The two continued idly chatting for a while as they went over their experiences of autumn, winter and Spring without eachothers paths crossing, save for the odd text or social media like. By the end of it, Pacifica felt better, and had been quite convinced Dipper was just acting up in the hopes of protecting his family. </p>
<p>It was difficult to be sad around Mabel. Her enthusiasm and boundless positivity really did have a habit of infecting everyone around her. The dour Grunkles would light up like a Christmas tree whenever they spent time with her, and, right now, Pacifica was genuinely <em> surprised </em> to have a smile on her face. </p>
<p>What struck her even more was Mabel's developing ability to control herself. It was clear she was excited - <em> super </em> excited - by whatever her latest romantic escapade was, but she kept it quiet around Pacifica when faced with the ongoing drama. </p>
<p>The Northwest heir sighed and laid back a little. It felt good to have friends, even if it did sort of wake up that voice in the back of her head. </p>
<p>
  <em> Why were you so horrible to these people? Do you have any idea how lucky you are to have gotten a second chance? You should be ashamed- </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>"Watcha reading?" Mabel piped in, lifting up the notepad. </p>
<p>"Oh, uh… it's something Toby gave me."</p>
<p>"<em> Toby </em>? What is it, a flipbook?" Mabel giggled.</p>
<p>She flipped over the first page - and had a very visceral response. Immediately, she threw it back down and yelled at the top of her voice, standing up and scrambling back against the bedside table, causing the little lantern atop it to rattle. </p>
<p>The panic attack wasn’t a surprise, really. That… thing had kind of threatened everything Mabel held dear, gaslit her into some kind of fictional paradise and almost caused her beloved Grunkle to lose every memory of his person. </p>
<p>Pacifica cringed. She probably should have expected that. "You okay?" </p>
<p>Mabel stood up and backed away, her eyes wide, breathing heavily. "Wh-wha- why is <em> he </em> in there?!" </p>
<p>"Mabel, calm down. Apparently this was written by Toby's great-grandpa. He was researching the town's weirdness long before Grunkle Ford did."</p>
<p>Mabel cautiously leaned back in and took a little longer to look through the next few pages.. Somewhat more comfortable, she sat down and read with her future sister in law, carrying a renewed enthusiasm."But he's writing about the Northwests…?"</p>
<p>"Apparently there's a few more connections with… <em> him </em> and my family than I really wanted to believe. And that's before we even <em> think </em> about Curzon."</p>
<p>"Curzon isn't a <em> patch </em>on Bill." Mabel scoffed.</p>
<p>"Bill isn't still out there."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a generous pause as that comment seemed to sink in. Mabel stared out of the triangular window at the Oregon forests, the towering pine trees swinging gently in the wind. Her mind kind of flashed over as she thought about the strange creatures, villains and oddities they had taken on over the past year-and-a-bit.</p>
<p>She wasn’t oblivious. At least, not all the time.. She knew that their brand of anomaly was… pretty resilient. She knew that Curzon was pretty capable. </p>
<p>She also knew that they hadn’t actually seen any of Curzon’s curses at work, apart from those snowglobes. And that was more silly than a particularly sinister piece of work, right? </p>
<p>She gulped. Maybe that liquorice shadow-centipede was a bit scarier than she gave it credit for.</p>
<p>"Are we sure that Curzon is?" </p>
<p>"Quentin seemed pretty certain. And <em> he </em>told us that he'd be going to Northwest Manor." Pacifica replied, sternly. </p>
<p>“I mean… I love Trembley as much as the next eligible lady bachelor.” Mabel replied, “But is he <em> really </em>a reliable source?”</p>
<p>“Maybe it’s just me, but I think Trembley was a bit more sensible than people give him credit for. I mean, he did manage to train a giant goose. How crazy can he be?”</p>
<p>"Well, least <em> we're </em> going there, right? We'll shove Curzon’s cigar straight up his-" </p>
<p>"You seriously think we can take him on? Mabel, we blew him up and he's still going!"</p>
<p>Mabel remained rather over confident. "I bet Grunkle Stan could <em> pummel </em> him."</p>
<p>Pacifica raised an eyebrow. “I wish I could believe that, Mabel. I mean, it’s meant to be just me and Dipper exploring the place, and I can’t even get him to<em> trust me </em>.”</p>
<p>“He’ll get over it. I know we can trust you, Pacifica.” Mabel smiled. “Besides, if I know my brother…”</p>
<p>Mabel wordlessly stepped towards the door, narrowly avoiding every creaky floorboard beneath her, then quickly opened the door - causing Dipper to fall into the room, landing flat on his face with a somewhat painful sounding thump.</p>
<p>“...He’ll be doing his creepy eavesdropping thing.” She continued triumphantly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The dork in the lumberjack hat scrambled back up and leaned against the doorframe with a smile on his face, making a desperate - and, of course, completely useless - attempt at looking casual. “H-hey, I was just passing by and-”</p>
<p>His eyes met the red, tear stained face of Pacifica Northwest - and any attempt at maintaining his facade faltered very quickly. </p>
<p>Mabel walked out of the room and slapped her brother’s back, partially in friendly banter, partially in a very sincere punishment for her brother’s stupidity. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”</p>
<p><br/>Had Mabel <em> planned </em>that?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Reconciling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p>
<p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p>
<p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper blinked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica blinked too and tried to compose herself, giving another sniffle. “H-hey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paz, I- I’m really sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I just-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I get it, Dipper. I was a horrible person and you don’t trust me. Whatever.” She huffed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do trust you. I just- I’m used to people trying to hurt us, okay? We’ve seen some pretty crazy stuff, I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said</span>
  <em>
    <span> I get it</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Pacifica snapped - before shrinking back again. “I know you just wanna protect the people you love, Dipper. I just hoped </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>was one of them.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper frowned and sat on the bed next to her, putting an arm around Pacifica’s shoulders and pulling her close. “B-b-but you are!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then how come ‘me’ and ‘your family’ are two separate things in your mind, Dip? I’m not a fool. I get it, I’m new and I’ve made mistakes, but-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But-” Dipper fumbled, before Pacifica raised her hand and glared at him. He went quiet again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But </span>
  <b>
    <em>I love you.</em>
  </b>
  <span>” Pacifica said, firmly. “You’re one of the few things in my life I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>certain </span>
  </em>
  <span>about. You’re the reason I have what I have, you changed everything about my world and you think you can just… just separate me from yours?!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just don’t- Pacifica, these things take time! I’m still getting used to this stuff, I’ve never had a girlfriend before, let alone one who’s coming with me on all of this monster stuff! This - this is meant to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing and suddenly everyone is doing it!” Dipper finally spat out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things fell quiet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m meant to be the monster hunter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>meant to be the detective. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>meant to be the next Grunkle Ford.” Dipper continued. “I’m used to everybody in the world being out to get us. My Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford, Mabel, me, even Soos - we’re used to being tricked, attacked, hurt, whatever! And - and I don’t want that to be you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Enough </span>
  </em>
  <span>people have gotten wrapped up in what this town throws at us. I don’t want you to get hurt just because you moved out of your parent’s house.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica frowned. “Don’t you think that should be </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>choice? For a really smart guy, you’re one of the biggest dummies I know. Stop acting like an ass and let me into your life, Dipper! I’m not going to hurt you, I’m not tricking you and if you dare accuse me of doing that again, or keep one more secret from me, I swear, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll slap you</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper huffed and sat down. “P-point taken. I’m sorry, I just-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica rolled her eyes and grabbed him by the vest fiercely. “Shut up. Alright? For once. Just shut up, you dork.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper was about to speak again before Pacifica pulled him into a kiss. He flailed, throwing his arms around her tightly as he tried to process what the hell was going on, his face flushing a trademark red as the both of them indulged in just about the most passionate - albeit tense - kiss they’d both ever experienced. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Relationships were freakin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica pulled back and shoved Dipper away from her playfully, their lips separating with a wet smack. “I love you, you nerd. Don’t take that for granted and don’t protect me unless I </span>
  <em>
    <span>ask </span>
  </em>
  <span>for it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“W-will you forgive me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. Not until you forgive me for what’s happened in the past.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That might take a while-” Dipper mumbled, wiping his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then so will this.” Pacifica huffed and picked the notepad up from the bed. “Now are you ready to start reading a proper mystery?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper paused, briefly wondering if it was time to unveil his own learnings from Manly Dan - but opted against it. He figured it was a need to know basis. And she didn’t really need to know until he unveiled it. Right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thought that was a pretty smart plan. He’d blow her away, knock her socks off, really make her think he was five-star monster-hunter-boyfriend material. Maybe they’d go to a state where teenagers can get married or something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he decided to just play along with Pacifica’s mystery. It wasn’t a secret, it was just holding it back until relevant. He was the hero, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>expert</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he’d prove it. “What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Toby Determined gave it to me. It’s a load of notes from one of his ancestors.” She replied, handing it to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper looked incredulous as he glanced at the loosely bound scraps of yellowed, tattered paper, barely holding on to themselves in his hands - each one looking scruffier than the last. “What, Toby gave you a story and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>believed </span>
  </em>
  <span>it? He’s a hack. He’s never done a piece of journalism in his life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Toby is many things, Dipper, but he was pretty damned serious about this stuff. Besides-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper lifted the first page, yelped and dropped it to the floor. “That’s - that’s Bill!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup, figured that’d be your reaction. Turns out Tobias Determined was as interested in the town’s weirdness as your Grunkle, about a hundred years before Ford even got here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper’s hands shook as he started reading. “B-but this-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you seriously think anything is impossible in this town, Dip, you need to give up your monster hunting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper couldn’t really argue with that. The two of them started reading intently, curious to see what answers Tobias had managed to get together before his inevitable silencing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next few pages told of a very different Northwest family to even what they believed to be the case. Even Dipper - who was still only just processing the harrowing tale from the Corduroy records - found his eyebrows raising as he read the report. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>October 29th, 1882.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>I attended a small celebration at Northwest Manor today under a level of disguise, hopeful to discover some form of further elucidation as to the presence of The Cipher in Nathaniel Northwest’s collection. I’m afraid to say that, since 1863 and the construction of the mansion house, Nathaniel has only grown more erratic and fearful.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>His beard, quite unkempt, is now beginning to grey in his advancing years - but, crucially, his mind has deteriorated into a rambling mess of insanity, forever praising this creature: the Cipher, or, as he calls it, William. I fear he has begun worshipping this being, and has started gathering memorabilia ranging from around the world.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>I was shocked to discover many relics scattered around the manor, from this triangular shape being caught within valuable renaissance era art, to ancient sarcophagus from Ancient Egypt and Persia. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>What was once simply a locale obsession is now an international treasure heist. Nathaniel has purchased many properties from tombs, grave sites and sacred locations across the world, paying teams of mercenaries handsomely before they inevitably go ‘missing’. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>His own wife, Lucinda, has confided in me that she is fearful of the man - though I soon discovered she was leaning in to talk to me in a thinly veiled attempt to poison or drug my beverage.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Their eyes are increasingly sunken, their faces pale and pallid. I fear that they have not gone outside in many months, perhaps years, and seem to rely on their home’s dim gas lighting to see through the windowless corridors within.  </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Their children seem ungodly silent, out of sight and mind. They have many children, and I have not seen any of them. Even the oldest, Cornelius - who has many business interests, including the Gravity Falls railroad - is nowhere to be seen within this labyrinthine, terrible building. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>I decided to hide myself inside the mansion once the celebration was over. The house was more than large enough to go missing within inconspicuously. I now write from within the manor’s very walls. I shall report my findings. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two kids glanced at each other, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Bill, according to his own words, was a being who chose people of power and intelligence, those within who were particularly easy to manipulate, in the hopes of gaining credence and access to their dimension.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Had he been communicating with the Northwests? Could Weirdmageddon have happened centuries earlier, should the Northwests have willed it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica looked more fearful than Dipper thought he had ever seen her. He glanced back at the paper and smiled nervously. “Maybe that should be it for the night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dipper, have you considered the fact we’re going to the house tomorrow? I’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind of like </span>
  </em>
  <span>to know what we could be getting into.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, maybe a good night’s sleep would be a better idea, right? I mean, it’s beginning to get dark, there’s still no power, and-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica frowned and switched on the lantern that sat on the bedside lantern. “And we’re going to keep reading.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper took a deep breath. “I’m really not sure if-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am. And it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>family name.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper couldn’t help but be a little bit impressed. He cosied up a little bit closer to her and smiled. “If you’re sure. Just let me know if you wanna stop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will, hon’.” Pacifica smiled, nuzzling into his cheek. “Relax.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The penmanship in what followed had declined, now shuddering and stilted, clearly written hurriedly with a sense of fear and tension. It seemed to record Tobias’s experiences in the dark of the now quiet manor house.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>It is now midnight, and I am unable to locate the Northwests. The lighting in this mansion is dim and unpleasant, and all seems to have become grey and drab in the absence of the townspeople’s presence.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>This building is impressively grotesque in its proportions. Everything is dark and smells of burning incense. Is this some sort of ritual? The family’s voices can be heard, yet no room seems to contain them.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>There is only echoing discussion. Something prompting the concept of a deal, some sort of talk of being agents of chaos, of following the will of William and his demands upon the Northwests.There is talk of scientific experimentation.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Their dynamic is fearfully unpleasant. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>The family seem to be unhinged and unpleasant towards eachother, never expressing thoughts of love, compassion or care between eachother. They speak about people’s lives as if they are pawns.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>I am finding myself overcome with a feeling of dread. Why does this house seem to hold such a strange effect over me? What is lurking within? Why am I so… paranoid? So nervous?</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Something is happening, here. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two felt shivers fall down their spines, something that only seemed to grow stronger as the night continued to fall, the room darkening into a dim light provided only by the lantern on the bedside table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica laid her head on Dipper’s shoulder and wrapped an arm around him. Within time, Dipper was pretty sure he could feel her hand up his shirt, laid quite comfortably upon his chest, her nose pushed ever-so-gently against his neck. It did little to discourage his anxiety. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Mabel came back upstairs with one of her suppertime concoctions (a gummi koala and chocolate sprinkle sandwich) she made little mention of it. She simply squeezed in besides them and read along, occasionally sending an emoticon laden text to Kevin back at the Corduroy hut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica occasionally tried to crane her neck over to read, but soon grew too comfortable to particularly care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was much less comfort in the handwritten notes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>I have managed to locate Cornelius Northwest, Nathaniel’s Eldest son. He’s a stout man, perhaps mid 30s. He is discussing the Gravity Falls railroad with… himself. The man is talking to himself quite extensively. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>He keeps discussing the need for a payout. There’s a continuous look of fraught agony upon his face. I can see from the charts on his study’s wall that there’s very little profit in running a railroad to Gravity Falls. Perhaps because it takes an hour for trains to get down from the cliffs, and two hours for them to climb back up. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>He’s biting his pen. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>He just threw his pen at a portrait of his father. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>There appears to be several pens embedded in said portrait of his father. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>I’m not sure how much Cornelius likes his father.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was now growing late. The kids were beginning to lack as the minutes ticked by, the old lantern on the bedside table beginning to run out of oil, flickering into an increasingly dim, darkening orange that provided much ambience…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But much less function for reading.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, faced with the potential for eye strain, the two were forced to resign - and simply sat with eachother, eyes struggling to stay open. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did… you even know Cornelius existed?” Dipper whispered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of the guy.” Pacifica whispered in return - slightly drowned out by Mabel’s snoring. “Guess Nathaniel didn’t like him either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wasn’t he in the newspaper?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, the story about the train crash.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Pacifica, do you think your family had… something to do with the train crash?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, the newspaper says they cut staff training. I guess they were pretty irresponsible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean… more than that.” Dipper replied, trying to be as tactful as he could. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica scoffed, but had to confess she wasn’t filled with conviction about it. That would be the work of a family deranged. A family sick and twisted, with no care for people, dedicated to some sort of psychopathic higher purpose...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked back at Tobias’s writing and felt a pit in her stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Grunkle Stan herded Dipper downstairs - loudly proclaiming he didn’t want ‘any funny business’ going on between the two sharing a bedroom - Pacifica had officially resigned herself to a sleepless night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The heady concoction of excitement, dread, and Mabel’s loud snoring did little to assist a decent night’s rest. The next day would be difficult.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Handover</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>It is now 4 in the morning. I have been examining this building and its rooms for hours, and, I am afraid, my discoveries only worsen the ongoing depths depravity and bizarre behaviour that the Northwest family seem to be up to.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>The family appear to be following similar paths to myself - though, I am afraid, far less constructively. They appear to have a fascination with the strange and supernatural that rivals my own, though, I’m afraid, are more interested in harnessing them as opposed to documenting them. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>The Northwests are still awake - at least, their Patriarch is most certainly still strolling the building’s halls, rambling about all manner of occurrences, situations and rooms that I am yet to understand or encounter. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>He sometimes seems to hit his own head in a vain attempt to create a semblance of internal logic, and occasionally punches walls. I must confess I’ve become very fearful of the man based upon what I have seen. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>He and Cornelius had a meeting in a room that appears to be built especially for the purpose. I say this as the entire room is composed of a desk and a single chair, surrounded by books that appear to act as sound insulation. From my usual vantage points, eavesdropping proves pointless. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Lucinda awakens at this time, quite alone, and cooks breakfast. Quite why she does this when there’s so many staff within the building, I am unsure. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>I’m also not sure why she cooks such strange things. I have never seen a more bizarre array of spices and scents, all of which smell particularly odd. A sort of aniseed or fennel stench that spreads across the building, with a vague hint of mahogany and cinnamon.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>I feel my brow clamming, and my hands shaking. Something feels wrong. Something feels sinister. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Am I losing my mind? The eyes upon the walls seem to be piercing me from every Cipher relic upon them. I feel as if I’m being watched. </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Pacifica and Dipper continued to read intently - though with no small amount of trepidation - as they travelled in Stan’s battered old car towards the manor house, dining on Soos’s special brand of breakfast tacos, which he had provided especially for the occasion. </p><p>Soos’s breakfast tacos were basically taco shells filled with bacon, eggs and hash brown. Hardly a gourmet treat in Pacifica’s mind, and definitely not her favoured eggs benedict. She found herself having to wipe her hands continuously whenever she had to turn the page, lest the assault of grease managed to destroy the battered old notepad in her hands. </p><p>She looked at the seeping foodstuff and grimaced. The soggy tortilla wrapping was soon almost transparent. </p><p>She winced as she ate the rest, forced to admit, begrudgingly, that she loved it. A hot home comfort that distracted her from the fact they were about to return to her old home comforts. </p><p> </p><p>“You doing okay?” Dipper asked, his greasy hand wrapping around hers.</p><p>“Please don’t hold my hand without wiping it. Ew.”</p><p>Dipper chuckled and cleaned up his hand on his vest. “Sorry.”</p><p>The two smiled at each other and scooted a little closer, their now dried hands soon interlocking again as she rested her head on his shoulder.</p><p>Mabel was busy giggling over her texts. She had barely even eaten her taco, and Soos had made hers <em> extra </em>special by adding syrup. </p><p> </p><p>"You kids remember why we're coming here?" Ford asked. "You need to treat this as a mission, not a holiday. I'm all for you two being happy, getting some alone time, but this house needs properly recording and investigating?" </p><p>"And what pizza do you want?" Stan chimed in. "We've got uh… toscana? What the hell is a toscana? Some kinda dance?" </p><p>Ford yelped and grabbed the steering wheel. "<em>Please </em> drive the car instead of looking at pizza menus, Stanley!" </p><p>Pacifica gripped Dipper's shirt as the car screeched back into their side of the road. Dipper just smiled and stroked her head, clearly used to Stan's less than stellar driving at this point. </p><p>"Anyway." Ford smiled. "Remember that you two are our top detectives. You see the slightest oddity, you need to record it. I'm serious when I say you need to do brass rubbing, deciphering, all of the skills you have. The tiniest thing in that building could be a clue."</p><p>"Grunkle Ford," Dipper replied. "What are we looking for clues about? What is it we're actually hunting?" </p><p>The two Grunkles looked at each other and shrugged before Ford leaned back over. "We think that the Northwests were experimenting with something. Something to do with the anomalies in the forest, long ago. Quentin Trembley had a ton of documents about your family, Pacifica, and that was just <em> one </em> of his theories."</p><p>"The guy was a schmuck, but he was a schmuck who knew Gravity Falls better than anyone." Stan added, picking his teeth and holding the steering wheel with his knees. "Gotta admit, he seemed to know what he was talking about."</p><p>"And if they did?" Dipper asked. "What are we meant to do about it?" </p><p>"It could go two ways, Dipper. We might learn something from it, or we might find ourselves with a fully blown scandal."</p><p>"Blackmail material." Stan winked. "See how much Preston tries to fight to get Blondie back when we have that bombshell! Ha!" </p><p>Pacifica smiled. "You guys are crazy."</p><p>"Maybe." Ford grinned. "But if our suspicions are correct, we might not be so different to the Northwests than we think."</p><p>"Two peas in a pod. Save a coupl'a billion in the bank." Stan cackled, narrowly scraping the side of a Buick. "Get out of my damned lane! I'll firebomb that hunka junk if I ever see it in town!" </p><p>Pacifica figured it was best to just pretend Stan's road rage was an act. Best not to pry. </p><p> </p><p>Within time, the El Diablo was careening up the steep gradient to Northwest Manor, the atmosphere seemingly darkening around them as they arrived at the - now insignia-less - gates, which, under Fiddleford's instruction, were now permanently open. </p><p>Pacifica felt her blood run cold as the enormous, monolithic building loomed over them, almost unchanged from when she lived there, save the antennas and satellites scattered across the building's multiple roofs, punctuated by blinking red beacons that seemed to serve very little purpose. </p><p>She had never realised how scary that damned house was up until this point. It seemed to carry a permanent atmosphere of unpleasant feeling, as if the town's unflinching grudge still laid there, still spitting upon the Northwest's crooked legacy with dots of scattered rain. </p><p>She felt herself shrinking back into the car seat, closing any existing gap between her and Dipper as the building's dramatic silhouette cast them in dark shadow. </p><p> </p><p>Fiddleford stood ahead of the towering arched doorway with his son, their friendly demeanour contrasting terribly with the gothic spikes and coving of the castellated manor behind them. </p><p>"Howdy." Tate smiled - in his typically vague manner. "You guys gonna be alright in here?" </p><p>"Nothing we haven't seen before, Tate." Ford smiled. "I assure you, you father and I have been through worse."</p><p>Tate cocked his head. </p><p>Fiddleford chuckled, wrapping an arm around Ford's shoulder. "Someday, son, I'll fill you in on what me and your uncle Ford have been through, long before last summer."</p><p>"Uncle Ford?" Stan blurted out tactlessly, looking to his brother with an eyebrow firmly raised. </p><p>Ford just smiled and shrugged. "And you're sure you don't mind us investigating your home?" </p><p>"Ford, I haven't got a clue what half of these danged rooms are! We use, what, seven of 'em?" he tried to count on his fingers, glancing at his ever steadfast son. </p><p>"Six." Tate corrected. </p><p>"Six. We use six of' em. And the last time we counted, well, shoot! Must have been 120 if there were 100 of 'em. Guy can get lost in there. We used to play catch in the banquet Hall, and the ball is still missin'!" </p><p>"You find it, let us know." Tate smiled. "We goin', pops?" </p><p>"Are we ever!" Fiddleford replied. "Take care o'yerselves, Pines. No causin' an apocalypse or disturbin' the birds! Ahehehe!... Seriously."</p><p> </p><p>Fiddleford gave Ford an enthusiastic, friendly hug before making his way to the bullnose truck he now used as his mode of transport, Tate following after the disciplined shaking of hands. </p><p>The Pines stared wordlessly, as the ramshackle truck roared into life and started rattling down the hill. <br/><br/>"Man." Stan said, looking back at his curmudgeonly scientist brother with six fingers, hyperactive great niece with a grappling hook, dorky nephew with a birthmark on his forehead and his wealthy adopted teenage socialite. "Those McGuckets are <em> weird</em>."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Hallowed, Harrowing Halls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p>
<p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p>
<p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The family, laden with backpacks, maps, charts and paperwork, began unpacking in the central parlour. It was no small task, recording one of Northern States’ largest residences, and the Pines had come suitably prepared. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica felt sick. She felt like she was going to throw up. Every instinct in her body was telling her to get the hell out of there. She wasn’t sure if it was prompted by being in the building itself, Tobias’s writing, or her own self doubts, but she wasn’t comfortable at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper put his arm around her waist and smiled as reassuringly as he could. “Where do you want us to start, Paz?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica tried to fight off her inclination to say</span>
  <em>
    <span> let’s start by getting the hell out of here.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She sighed. “Let’s just choose a room to settle down for the night, huh? We’re gonna need a HQ.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anywhere in mind?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica’s cheeks flushed. “I… think I know a place.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Northwest Manor was abandoned fairly quickly by the Northwest family. The building was so outsized, so grotesquely excessive, so labyrinthine and difficult to navigate, that much of the family’s furniture, even some of the wall fittings, remained in situ.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper was, at first, startled by that fact - but very quickly realised that the family had been kicked out literally</span>
  <em>
    <span> a day</span>
  </em>
  <span> after Weirdmageddon. Who the hell manages to empty out a house that big in that amount of time?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most of the Northwest Manor was sold off part and parcel, all of it to Fiddleford as a quick package deal for an obscene amount of money, all of which had gone to the maisonette and replacing what the family had left behind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was probably of little consequence to the McGuckets that they still paid cleaners to keep the house in decent condition, despite the fact most of the rooms were literally untouched. Wall awnings, lights, furniture, bookcases, all kept perfectly prim, polished and perfect.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was like the house was a living museum to what had once been Pacifica’s life. It didn’t help her feeling of unease. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was faIr to say that she had never once, not in a million years, thought she’d be letting a boy into her bedroom. Let </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone </span>
  </em>
  <span>that boy being Dipper Pines. But here she was, opening the door and ushering him in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her room was a towering chamber - ridiculously high ceilings with grand, arched windows and a huge fireplace, bedecked in fairy lights with an enormous walk in closet that seemed to run the length of the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An enormous four poster bed sat in the centre, wrapped in floral garlands. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper went red. He was in a girl’s room. He was in his </span>
  <em>
    <span>girflriend’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>room. He was inside a room that his girlfriend slept in and lived in and had spent time in thinking about him and- “Is that another gaming PC? Are you kidding?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Girl needs her rig.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jeez… you seriously lived in this room? It’s bigger than most of the shack.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica shrugged and smiled. “Well, we’re living here for the weekend, Dip. Get used to it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper almost instantly walked towards the machine, hurriedly trying to switch it on - only for Pacifica to grab his vest’s collar and pull him back, firmly wrapping her arms around him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Preeetty sure we’re meant to be investigating.” She giggled, unpacking her things and pulling the notepad out of her pocket. “What’s the point gaming when you’re the one who wants to explore?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I- this is the most powerful rig you can buy and you want me to </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>play on it?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some mystery hunter.” Pacifica scoffed. “Don’t you wanna impress me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could impress you with my gami-” Dipper faltered as Pacifica smirked at him incredulously, one hand on her hip. “...Fine.I walked into that one. What is it you want to investigate first?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not gonna unpack your sleeping bag?” Pacifica chuckled, crossing her arms. “I hope you don’t think we’re sharing a bed, Dipper Pines.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper stammered in response and got to unpacking his stuff without another word. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Soon, they were set up with books, notepads, paper, cameras and more - all prepared for what promised to be a night of exploring the Manor House in immense levels of detail.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two stood proudly looking over their HQ. It looked like a real hunter’s headquarters - something that they could really work from. The little gathering was fettled together from their own equipment and bits and pieces lent from Grunkle Ford’s study, set up with a series of small tents they had scavenged from the Mystery Shack and a couple of bedsheets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was perfect.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If McGucket allowed it, they wouldn’t mind making it a permanent HQ. Though Dipper would prefer to get rid of some of the lilac and hot pink decor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps a discussion for another time, Dipper reasoned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were just assembling their equipment for a walk down the manor’s west wing, when a thundering crash echoed through the walls, rattling the steep, dropping light fittings that cascaded from those looming ceilings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two glanced at eachother and blinked, running out to see what had happened. “Mabel, are you okay?!” Dipper shouted as he sprinted down the plush, velvet carpets towards the room that his sister had commandeered. He ran in with no credence for knocking…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mabel jumped out of her skin, and there, frozen as he clambered over the window’s stone balcony, was none other than Kevin Corduroy. Looking like nothing short of a criminal caught in the middle of a heist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Hey.” The pompadour donning kid smiled sheepishly as he clambered over. “Sorry, I uh… think I knocked over a flowerpot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please don’t tell Grunkle Stan or Grunkle Ford.” Mabel gibbered. “He was free tonight and we’re getting on great and-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mabel! We’re here to investigate this place, not use it as a romantic retreat!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mabel’s usual rosy cheeks went a particularly bright shade of scarlet. “Hey, you’re the one in your girlfriend’s bedroom!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you get how </span>
  <em>
    <span>serious </span>
  </em>
  <span>this is?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you get how </span>
  <em>
    <span>serious </span>
  </em>
  <span>me and Kevin are?!?” Mabel shouted in response. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kevin blinked and rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. “S-should I go, or-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare.” Mabel said, firmly. “You sit your cute tuchus down right now, Mr. Corduroy!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, Mabel, seriously, it isn’t a good idea.” Dipper sighed, holding the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes in frustration. “We don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>what could happen here tonight. Don’t you think it’s a bit disrespectful bringing someone else into Pacifica’s home?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica cocked her head, her arms crossed and one of her furry designer boots tapping softly on the floor. She didn’t really see the big deal. Hell, she didn’t really think they had time for this junk. “It isn’t my home anymore, Dip. If Mabel </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> a spooky fling with a Corduroy, she’d only be the second, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mabel promptly broke up in laughter and high fived the blonde while Dipper glared furiously, his face going a strange purplish shade in a mixture of fury and embarrassment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kevin just stood there, still completely baffled by what the hell he had walked into.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without another word, Dipper spun on his heel and walked back out of the door, grabbing Pacifica’s hand and wrenching her out with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh- have a good night, you two!” Pacifica grinned - before promptly having the door slammed behind her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pacifica, seriously?!” Dipper snapped. “You can’t just-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, lighten up, hon’. What is it you’re being so uptight about? Mabel felt lonely, she invited a boy. Big whoop. If anything it kinda lightens the mood.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just don’t get you. One moment you’re deadly serious, the next you’re happy that my sister is with a boy in your dad’s study!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pacifica turned to face him and accusedly jabbed his chest. “Look, Dipper, this stuff is complicated, okay? I’m having a lot of trouble dealing with being here, and, right now, any distraction is a good one. Don’t tell me how to deal with it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have any idea what’s under our damned feet, Pacifica?! Curzon could be here any minute!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper suddenly clicked back to the fact that he hadn’t actually told Pacifica about the chambers, or tunnels, or dungeons, or what-the-hell-else lurked under the building. He realised as soon as Pacifica’s eyes widened and glared at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean, under our feet? After everything we’ve already talked about, you’ve been keeping secrets from me?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not-not secrets, I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>under our feet</span>
  </em>
  <span>?! Who have </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>gotten info from? Have you been investigating </span>
  <em>
    <span>my house </span>
  </em>
  <span>behind my back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-you said It isn’t your house any-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>SLAP!</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper held his cheek and stared at his girlfriend, standing there with her teeth and fists clenched. Oh boy, he had screwed up. Big time. He tried to stammer a response but found himself a little bit too shaken up to say anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Had he really gotten Pacifica Northwest </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>mad? In his mind, it wasn’t that serious an issue. Mabel had told him to knock her socks off with something really cool, with his absolute expertise. I mean, sure, he had agreed to let Pacifica get more involved, but it was only a little bit of a secret. It wasn’t like he was hoarding information-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Okay. He was kind of hoarding information. But it was for a big, romantic reveal. It was for good reason.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...Decent reason. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally </span>
  </em>
  <span>discussed you letting me into your life more </span>
  <em>
    <span>yesterday</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Yesterday, Dipper! And you didn’t think it might be a good tactic to tell me what you’d gone off to learn for yourself?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you get how freaky it is me being here? Don’t you get how freaking’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified </span>
  </em>
  <span>I am of what we could end up learning?! How could you be so dumb?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I- I thought that- I thought it’d impress you that I had started-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will you stop trying to make yourself the hero of every damned mystery?! I’m not some damsel in distress, Dipper! </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>the one who fought Cankerblight, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>the one who took on Lord Foo, I’m the one who let myself get wrapped up in this stuff and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, let me just-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. No, you aren’t saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>another word</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You’re taking me to whatever’s below our feet and you’re going to shut up until I let you speak.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper blinked as Pacifica stomped away down the seemingly endless, bordeaux red corridor carpet - leaving him behind. He took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and power walked after her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alright, Dipper. 2nd strike in two days. You can fix this. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mabel and Kevin glanced at eachother as the commotion died down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You… uh… you think your brother’s okay?” Kevin mumbled. </span>
  <span></span>
    <br/>
  
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I’m sure he’ll be fine. He needs to learn eventually. Now, let me paint your nails.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Wait. What?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Red Carpets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Pacifica barely even turned her head to find out if Dipper was following her. It was the least of her priorities. She was annoyed. Livid. Beyond angry. </p><p><em> Literally a day</em>. Literally a <em> day ago, </em> ‘no secrets’ was all she asked, and now she found out he’d been hiding information about her ancestral home. It felt like the biggest slight he could possibly come up with, ready packed, freeze-dried and served in a mug with a kiss. </p><p>She seethed as she navigated the building’s foreboding corridors, only vaguely aware of her boyfriend’s presence - and only vaguely tolerant. The building’s lights could only illuminate so much of those towering hallways - of course, credit had to be given over the fact it had lights at all.</p><p>Now that she thought about it, that was a little odd. It wasn’t beyond Fiddleford to have his own generator - not in the slightest - but she figured he’d have at least mentioned it when it came to the town-wide power outage. He barely even seemed aware it was happening.</p><p>He was a recluse at the best of times. Understandable, really - the man was dealing with practically a lifetime of being the town’s unstable kook, and now lived in one of the biggest mansion houses in the US…</p><p>Funny. Nathaniel Northwest was apparently fairly similar, in an evil and not-so-genius sort of way. At least, she believed he was…not so genius. He did die from choking on a piece of tree bark. Then again, she had almost died fighting against some kind of bright yellow pyramid in eveningwear. </p><p>Good grief, it was an odd life.</p><p> </p><p>She pulled out the notepad and opted to continue reading, sitting down in one of the telephone chairs under a dimly lit wall sconce. Dipper sat next to her and scooted closer. </p><p>There was a pause. A long, awkward pause. As if the dork was expecting her to actually<em> acknowledge </em>him. </p><p> </p><p>“Pacifica, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I-”</p><p>She huffed and stuck her nose up in the air. </p><p>Dipper’s eyes widened. Was this it? The best - the<em> only </em>relationship he’d ever had, and he’d screwed it up in only a few weeks? He swallowed hard, his hands beginning to shake. “I really d-didn’t think it-”</p><p>Pacifica’s head whipped round to him. “What. You didn’t think<em> what</em>? You didn’t think it <em> mattered </em>?” </p><p>Dipper shrank back into the chair. “I mean, I-”</p><p>“You listen to<em> me</em>, Mason Pines. Your Grunkle Ford took thirty years to realise he didn’t have to be some lone hero. If you take the same amount of time, I am<em> not </em>going to wait for it. Why do you have to keep being so damned stubborn?”</p><p>"I just wanted to impress you…” Dipper mumbled, looking down at his shoes. </p><p>“You seriously think you don’t impress me?” Pacifica snapped. “Dipper, you changed my life. You and your sister are the biggest, most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m not just with you against my<em> will</em>. I mean, what, you still think I’m going to leave you at the end of the Summer? You think it’s all <em> over </em>at the end of August?”</p><p>The silence spoke volumes. </p><p>Pacifica’s eyebrows raised and her eyes widened, standing up and glaring at him fiercely. “I’m not going <em> anywhere</em>, Dipper.” </p><p>She took a step back and started pacing back and forth, trying to machinate over the rush of thoughts and frustration that was rattling through her head. </p><p>Dipper had never seen her pace before. Was that some sort of Northwest thing?</p><p>“You’re going back to Piedmont, I get that, you’re worried it’s all gonna go sideways and we’re never going to talk again, that I might hook up with someone else in the next year and go back to a life of luxury. But you know what?” She turned to face him.</p><p>Dipper tried to open his mouth but was immediately silenced. </p><p>“I would wait years. <em> Years. </em> I waited almost a full year for you two to come back so I could even spend some more time with you. Don’t you get that?! I held onto your dumb Journal and read your dumb forums and watched your dumb ghost hunter shows for almost a year just so I could<em> feel like I was getting to know you better. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Dipper watched her pacing as he listened to her lecture - and realised that he was beginning to hear a strange, mechanical clicking noise - like wooden gears and poles clunking together. In the dim light of the hallway, one of the enormous mahogany and plaster panels in the building’s fabric began to judder.</p><p>With a loud squeal, causing rust and plaster to fall from the opening and the pinion wheel mechanics that lurked above - screaming in agony as it rose from its decades-long slumber, the entire room around them seemed to grind. </p><p>A bright light from inside flickered on the moment the door ceased to move, one that glared onto the carpet ahead of them, catching the light of metallic threads that had been stitched into that thick, shag pile carpet.. </p><p> </p><p>The kids stared, open mouthed, at the pattern of what appeared to be footsteps that - almost - perfectly matched the trail that Pacifica had been treading in her frustrated pacing. </p><p>Pacifica turned to face Dipper, completely perturbed. Dipper raised an eyebrow and cocked his head as he looked at her.</p><p>“Paz...did you know that’d happen?”</p><p>“Don’t you <em> dare </em>try to pin this on me.”</p><p>“I mean, you just unlocked it-”</p><p>“What, by pacing?!”</p><p>“I mean… yeah.” Dipper scratched his head as he stood up. “Guess we better take a look.”</p><p>“Oh yeah. <em> Sure</em>. Let’s go into the secret room in the middle of a Gothic mansion’s walls.” Pacifica huffed. The two took a step into the foreboding doorway before Pacifica whipped round and firmly tapped her boyfriend in the chest, her nose almost touching his as she leaned in towards him. “This conversation is <em> not </em>over, Dipper Pines.”</p><p>“There’s more to say?”</p><p>“You better believe I have more to say to you.” She snarled. “Don’t you dare try and drop the subject.”</p><p>“I’ve not changed any subject, you did by unlocking the secret room you’d apparently no idea about-”</p><p>Pacifica glared at him. "For someone so smart, you really are a complete idiot.”</p><p>“S-so you always say.” Dipper smiled nervously, trying to rebuild their rapport with no small amount of desperation. “I mean, would you really want that to change?” </p><p>“No.” Pacifica sighed, trying to resist the smirk that seemed to break through against her wishes. “It’s one of those things that makes you so loveable…”</p><p> </p><p>The secret room spared no level of elegance inside its furnishings, considering the fact it was clearly not meant to be examined by prying eyes. Furnished in elegant, hand carved wood panels, it felt similar to a Tudor nobleman’s parlour as opposed to the otherwise fairly simple lines across the rest of the structure. </p><p>The room smelt of smoke and liquor, a strange, hazy atmosphere seemingly dominating the area in a permanently unpleasant murk that made the grand, elegant office feel more like a shady bar in a back-alley. </p><p>In the place of the towering bookcases, there was, instead, an enormous map of Gravity Fall’s chunk of Oregon. Above it stood elegantly printed lettering, proudly proclaiming <b> <em>The Gravity Falls Railroad Company: </em> </b> <em> In Partnership with Northwest Family Enterprises, </em>with a bright, thick red line that seemed to follow - roughly - the tunnels in the floating cliffs and their route down towards what had once been the town’s station.</p><p>The two glanced at each other. Pacifica pulled out the notepad and twisted her lip as she flicked through the pieces of paper. Dipper held the flashlight over her shoulder as they started reading that ink blot handwriting. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>It is 5AM. The Northwest family is asleep.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Using a series of matches for light, I have managed to locate a series of coded footprints inside the western wing’s carpets. It took twenty minutes to understand this was a coded mechanism and enter what appears to be Cornelius Northwest’s office. </em> </b>
</p><p><b> <em>This room is a planning headquarters for the railroad’s financial operations, but I am finding in the documents within the library that they are in serious trouble, and have been for several decades. </em> </b> <b>  </b></p><p>
  <b> <em>I am thus very surprised to find that the company has filed a ridiculously outsized insurance policy on its railroad engine and carriages, rather than simply using the money to buy more of the things. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>I fear that this is under some kind of foreign instruction. I fear that this may be inspired by the demands of this crooked cult or religion that the Northwest Family has developed. There appears to be some semblance of Cornelius feeling ill sentiment towards this.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>My investigations must go further, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult to do so considering the imminent deadline of morning.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>The two looked up at the map and traced their eyes along the route to the railroad bridge, where the crash that had created Greasy’s diner had taken place. The map reference held a bright red flag pin, jammed into the paper with what appeared to be some force. It had gone straight through the linen backed paper and into the wall. </p><p> </p><p>“Y’know what I was saying about your family having something to do with the train crash?”</p><p>Pacifica replied in a hushed, dimmed tone, her eyes gazing down at the floor as she took in what appeared to be a fresh discovery, of an entirely new level of crooked dealing in her family’s heritage.</p><p>“Yes, Dipper. I remember.” She bit her lip and clenched her fists, squeezing the notepad gently in her hand.</p><p>“I guess that-”</p><p>“Shut up, Dipper. Please.” She sat down in a dusty office chair and sighed, looking up at the map forlornly, her eyes focusing on that barely conspicuous red pin that sat atop the Gravity Falls bridge, between the floating cliffs - only metres away from the tunnels that Quentin Trembley had ended up making his home.</p><p> </p><p>That pin might as well have been a bright red smoking gun, still attached to the branches of the Northwest family tree, still hot, still stinking of powder and shot.</p><p>It all tied together, and she<em> hated </em>it with a passion.</p><p>The Great Gravity Falls Train Crash is something that haunted her across the Summer - something that had sparked off, in one way or another, everything since the Pines had come back. Some kind of butterfly effect, all stemming from her place of work and its surprisingly unpleasant origins.</p><p>She thought back to their encounter inside Greasy’s that hot summer night, the green, crawling face of the engineer’s ghost glaring into their eyes, gripping Dipper’s throat, the the fact that the ghost was under her father’s control, the spirits of the innocent caught up in that fiery impact against Gravity Falls’ town centre…</p><p>An involuntary shiver went up her spine. She felt sick. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Pin Mark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>The silence was deafening. Dipper stood there awkwardly, waiting for Pacifica to do something. But there she sat at the desk, furiously staring at the desk and the piles of folders, files and booklets that seemed scattered there, ready and waiting for their owner to return.</p><p>It struck Dipper as odd. </p><p> </p><p>It was like Cornelius Northwest had just… disappeared some day. There was still a half empty bottle, there was still a cigar standing around, still ash in the ashtray, still a pair of pince-nez glasses sat on the desk, still schedules and paperwork…</p><p>“So… you <em> really </em> have no idea who Cornelius was?” He ventured carefully, trying his best to sound as non-accusatory as he could. It wasn’t the easiest thing to pull off.</p><p>Pacifica idly batted an ink pen with her hand. “Never heard of the guy.”</p><p>“Guess he was pretty important." Dipper murmured as he shuffled through the paperwork."Railroad letters, timetables, <em> Bare Ankles Monthly </em> - ew - all kinds of stuff."</p><p>"I didn't know my family freaking<em> ran </em>the railroad. I knew they had ties in it, but owning and running it?"</p><p>"And from a secret room."</p><p>"Right?! <em> And </em> from a secret room!" </p><p>"Guess it was a front company and nobody was supposed to know." Dipper shrugged. "They really aren't kidding when they say the Northwests ran the town. But, I mean, even for your family, this kinda seems… I dunno. Grim? I know that Nathaniel Northwest was <em> bad</em>, but-”</p><p>“From what Tobias is writing, these people were just cracked, Dip. I don’t think there was any logic to it.”</p><p>“There’s always a logic.” Dipper replied. “Even if they were a bit… unhinged, there has to be a reasoning for it.”</p><p>"Yeah - so they plan out the train wreck, insure the stuff involved and then just let the entire thing come crashing down and cash in. Great."</p><p>“But according to what he was writing down, Tobias seems to think that Cornelius didn’t<em> want </em>to. And… doesn’t this office seem a bit too ‘forgotten’ to you? Like it’s just been left untouched? It’s like he just disappeared one day.”</p><p>“Maybe he developed a conscience and left.” Pacifica scoffed. “What does it matter?”</p><p>“Pacifica, how open was your <em> Dad </em>to letting you leave the manor? Your family are like… almost<em> constantly </em>isolated at the top of his hill. You really think Nathaniel would have been more lenient than your folks?”</p><p>“I… point taken.”</p><p>They both looked up at the map of the railroad again and grimaced at that bright red pin, thrown into the paper with all of the grace of a knife plunged into a tomato. Using a catapult.</p><p>The two fell quiet as they mulled over the increasingly bizarre situation - the history of the family seemed to be unraveling around them at a gradual, painfully unpleasant pace, revealing more and more sickening wounds that hadn’t seen fresh air for quite some time.</p><p> </p><p>The Northwest Family Mystery they were indulging in seemed to be like the peeling of a band-aid from an infected pustule. It felt like every little step just led to more disgust, oozing out the family's filth every step of the way. </p><p>"Look, let's just keep exploring." Dipper said. "Get some photos taken and we'll keep looking for more info."</p><p>"Right." She sighed, pulling out her cellphone. "Hope Ford doesn't mind a ton of camera flash. These old lights are junk." </p><p>"As long as we can see what's going on, they'll be fine. Besides, you're really good at it."</p><p>"Heh. Thanks."</p><p> </p><p>The two exchanged a smile as Pacifica got to work, while Dipper began frantically scrawling down notes from what they had found. He occasionally glanced up at her and found himself feeling increasingly guilty over how much he'd screwed up over the past day. </p><p>Especially considering how upsetting this stuff was becoming. It was a bit hard to appreciate the gravity of the situation developing. He wasn’t sure what he found more disturbing; the fact the family had apparently crashed a train on purpose, the fact they still didn’t know how it was crashed in the first place, the fact they were doing it as some weird cult phenomenon, or, perhaps most damning, the fact it was in the name of the triangular, top hatted menace that made their town a hellhole with the click of his inky black fingers.</p><p>It was no place for his suspicion, that’s for sure. He found all of this freaky enough - imagine how she felt. Imagine how it must feel to discover all of this about your family in a couple of days. It was seriously getting weirder and weirder - hidden rooms, keys, messages written in blood (or jam), and the fact it was all in her ancestral home?</p><p>He just wanted to throw his arms around her and make it better. Just take her away from it. As much as he had wanted to go exploring and discover something big in the house, he wasn’t really sure how much he could enjoy a good mystery when it was hurting her almost continuously.</p><p>And, so far, hurting their relationship. It felt like this stuff wasn’t going to go away, and it made him feel increasingly anxious. </p><p>Not that being anxious was anything new for Dipper Pines. </p><p> </p><p>He bit his pen as he looked over his notes, casting his eyes away from the repeated glare of the camera flash from his girlfriend’s photojournalism - only to notice a dim reflection from one of the dusty corners of the desk's shelves. </p><p>He blinked, wondering if it was just his eyes adjusting. </p><p>"Pacifica, take another photo."</p><p>"Huh?" </p><p>"Do it!" </p><p>"I was <em> already </em> doing it." She snapped, the camera flashing again. </p><p>Dipper plunged his hand into the shadowy area to grab whatever reflective object lay within, pinpointing it in the split second of the glaring light. He pulled it free, and tried to think as little as he could about the mass of cobwebs that were now clinging to his skin. </p><p>It was a pretty underwhelming result. A single, battered silver coin. Not exactly the payload he was waiting for. He was hoping for a key or enchanted bolo tie or… Something. </p><p>He huffed. "Never mind."</p><p>"Uh… Dip-" </p><p>He looked to Pacifica, who was backing away with her teeth gritted, pointing at his arm - which was now covered - nay, plastered with spiders, huge, black hairy beasts that were writhing and crawling upon his wrist. And Dipper was not a fan of arachnids.</p><p>All at once, he involuntarily screamed, shook his arm frantically, and fell backwards onto the floor with a hollow<b><em>thud</em></b>. Pacifica jumped backwards in surprise and hit the wall with a substantially<em> less </em> hollow thud, causing the entire map to rattle, and, to her horror, the red pin to fall to the floor.</p><p>Getting onto her knees and peering, she looked at the flag pin and gasped as, with a sudden click, it unfolded into a tiny, delicate key, leaping off of the floor and rolling slightly. </p><p>Blessed with a very close view of those ancient floorboards, Dipper - at almost exactly the same time - took notice of a suspicious shape cut into the raw redwood, so small that it was barely visible. "Pacifica! Look at this! I think there's a keyhole!"</p><p>The Northwest heir picked up the tiny pin key and ran to him. No sooner had she stood to her feet when, as if prompted, the entire linen backed map of the Railroad fell from the wall with the rattling sound of paper and vellum.</p><p>The two froze.</p><p> </p><p>Behind it, there was now only the parchment wallpaper, clear from dust and dirt, certainly, but fouled with something that sent shivers down their spines. In a suspiciously red tone, the unmistakable shape of the Cipher wheel was scrawled frantically into the wall, with smeared, crooked letters spelling out <b> <em>PLEASE ANSWER</em></b>. <b>  </b></p><p>Pacifica stared at the letters, speechless, as if she was expecting something to happen.</p><p>Nothing else did. </p><p>"Is that… blood…?”</p><p>“It’s either blood or jam.” Dipper said with a level of intensity. Pacifica figured it best to ask the jam question later. “The question is who wrote it, and why were they trying to contact <b> <em>him</em></b>?!”</p><p>"I… I don't know. Maybe we should tell your Grunkles?" </p><p>"We can handle this."</p><p>Dipper stood up, confidently, and brushed the remains of those cobwebs off of his hand, striding over to Pacifica and picking up the tiny, red flag pin key. </p><p>"Dipper-"</p><p>"We<em> can </em>handle this, Pacifica. We're the best monster hunting duo this side of the East Coast. Besides… you want to be more involved, right?" </p><p>"Yeah. But-" </p><p>"Then let's take this on. Just you and me. I'll tell you what I found, we'll read up on what Tobias says, and we'll write it all up. You and me."</p><p>Pacifica smiled. <em> That </em>was more like it. She leaned in close, tapped his nose and smiled. "You're on, dork."</p><p> </p><p>The two gently - anxiously - slipped the little red pin into the inconspicuous keyhole, and turned it as carefully as they could, paranoid of snapping or bending the tiny little blade of the pin inside the ancient mechanism.</p><p>It clicked quickly, groaned, and prompted a dull rattle as a spring unhooked from underneath the floorboards. A trapdoor flew up suddenly like a reverse mousetrap - striking Dipper on the nose with an aggressive <strong> <em>Thwack</em></strong>.</p><p>Pacifica giggled. “You alright?”</p><p>“Why are you laughing?!” Dipper snapped, holding his bleeding button nose.</p><p>“You kinda deserved it.” She grinned - her face rapidly dropping as she cast her eye on what lurked underneath the trapdoor. Lined in velvet, the subterranean box was loaded with paper and paraphernalia, keys, a bottle of bourbon, and a large note - laying atop, clearly displayed with intent. </p><p> </p><p>Whoever had stowed the package of documents - and they both assumed it was Cornelius - had hoped for people to find it. It was written in thick, black ink, so stark it jumped off of the paper. So completely that even in the dim lamp light, it was clear and legible. </p><p>
  <b> <em>THE GREAT TRAIN CRASH WAS A SET UP </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>I NEVER WANTED THIS</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>FIND ME IN THE LABORATORY</em> </b>
</p><p>“La..laboratory? Where the hell would the Northwests have a laboratory?!”</p><p>Dipper looked up, stoney faced. “I…I think I’d better tell you what I meant by ‘under your feet.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. The Pillar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>It has become very clear that there is some sort of quirk in this building's layout that I am failing to understand. It seems as if, every time I follow Nathaniel at some distance, he successfully disappears. The central hallway, which seems to lead to every ground floor room in the property, appears to be the venue of choice for his disappearing act, but I cannot find any doorway to receive him. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Is this the work of witchcraft? Science? Whether the work of the natural or supernatural, it is clear that the Manor is being ruled by some form of malignant blight upon all inside it, and that the family itself is successfully running the town of Gravity Falls within closed doors. Doors so closed, in fact, that I am unable to locate them. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Despite the fact we're in the morning's earliest hours, Nathaniel has not slept, nor even reclined. I don’t believe he ever rests. He seems to pace his walls and halls continuously, doing so throughout with his strange, rambling nervous tick of talking to himself, his home, his decor… </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>He appears to bow every time he passes that cyclopean triangle on the wall. I feel that he truly believes William Cipher to be his muse - a guide to the unknown, the mysterious, and, most intrinsically, the strange brand of disembodied, aloof, unpleasant psychosis that the Northwests seem to revel in. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>It is easily one of the most disturbing things in this entire, bizarre affair. </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Pacifica scratched her head as they walked, haltingly, through the aforementioned central hallway, taking in the Northwest’s typical love of internal excess, pillars towering over them, with arched ceilings and elaborate imagery - Bill Cipher being prevalent throughout.</p><p>Pacifica cursed herself for never asking her dad about this crap earlier. She had never found all of this stuff so damned scary as she did now. She found herself sticking uncomfortably close to Dipper, distracting herself by leafing through the stuff left in the floor by Cornelius Northwest - though it provided very little answers.</p><p>Old sketches, photographs, even a blueprint for the Gravity Falls bridge, it was all fascinating and bizarre, but almost completely unintelligible. The man’s only hint for what had taken place was his note that he was sorry. </p><p>And that he could be found in the laboratory. </p><p> </p><p>“So, Manly Dan says there were tunnels underground, too.” Dipper explained as they felt around the walls for a seam, crack or mechanism.</p><p>“That’s unnerving.”</p><p>“Yeah. I uh… I kinda think he might have had some sort of connection to… y’know.”</p><p>“Cankerblight? Probably. I guess we know how he’s going to get to the manor, right?” Pacifica replied, taking a deep breath and whipping her hair. </p><p>“The thing is, if there’s tunnels, it’s like the Northwests wanted him there. What would they want from Curzon?”</p><p>“I mean, judging from how Nathaniel was, I’d kind of guess that Curzon’s curses, witchcraft and stuff would be pretty useful for getting rid of people.”</p><p>“You seriously think that-”</p><p>Pacifica held up the newspaper of the train crash with a straight face, glaring incredulously at her boyfriend. “Yes, I seriously think they would.”</p><p>“Point taken.” He smiled, awkwardly, before swiftly realising that smiling was a bit inappropriate considering the gravity of the situation. He put on his most intense, serious face.</p><p>Pacifica smirked. “You’re such a dork.”</p><p>“Hey, look, I’m as freaked out as you are.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know. It’s kinda reassuring.” She huffed as she looked around them under the dim lighting of the mansion’s hallway. “Main problem is how we get into these… secret… underground chambers your hairy lumberjack friend was talking about. How do <em> you </em>normally find secret stuff?”</p><p><br/>Dipper rubbed his chin, desperately wishing he at least had some facial hair to make the action more satisfying, pulling out the Journal in his vest and looking at it with an eyebrow raised.</p><p>“You can’t refer to that book for everything, Dipper. Come on.”</p><p>“This time, I definitely can. We need a UV light.”</p><p>“What, you wanna rave in the hallway? I mean, you get the glowsticks, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Dipper rolled his eyes before pulling out his trusty keyring. He had amassed quite a collection of fobs and keychains over his time, always content that, one day, every single one would come in useful. Sure, this was the first time any of them<em> had</em>, but he’d take what he could get. </p><p>Admittedly, he also didn’t actually have any keys upon it, apart from the one Quentin had given him. But hey, a single key and 23 keyrings, that wasn’t<em> too </em>excessive. Right?</p><p> </p><p>He flicked through them before picking up a fairly inconspicuous miniature torch and flicking it on. Immediately, the UV light got to work in the otherwise dim conditions, Dipper motioning at Pacifica to flick off the dim, golden glow of the wall lights.</p><p>The UV torch did its job admirably. The two jumped back in surprise, throwing their arms around eachother as the looming walls seemed to take on a personality and voice all of their own. </p><p>Surrounding them were elaborate patterns and diagrams, coded messages and straight, angular veins that seemed to thrive and writhe across the room’s outwardly elegant decor. It looked almost like an angular circuit board layout.</p><p> </p><p>They stared, blankly, as the entire ultraviolet circuit seemed to be glowing and pulsating in the purple light, creating a soft, barely audible throbbing - an electronic humming that swelled and reverberated around them.</p><p>Pacifica had goosebumps. Dipper’s hair stood on end. </p><p>“Wh..what is it-”</p><p>“I… I’m not sure. But it… it reminds me of something.” Dipper replied, his pupils shrinking into pindots, despite the dark conditions that surrounded them. He remembered Weirdmageddon - and, crucially, Bill’s eye being wrenched from its socket. </p><p>The circuits seemed almost an exact match for whatever passed as an optic nerve for that bright yellow menace. </p><p>He looked around fearfully as each line seemed to run through the numerous pieces of Bill ephemera and imagery, throughout the tapestries, paintings, sculptures and more. Why was it so clear inside the Manor? Why hadn’t he noticed it, in, say, the Shack? Admittedly he’d never bothered to shine a UV light in there, but…</p><p>Bill was watching. If Bill was still out there.</p><p> </p><p>He looked over to Pacifica and held her defensively, glaring up at the largest tapestry of ‘William Cipher’ that hung from the ceiling. “Let’s… let’s just try and find this door, huh?”</p><p>Pacifica pointed at the merging point of those circuits; veering into one large, glowing strip that slipped into one of the faux redwood pillars that arched into the elegant rococo ceiling. “Not too difficult, Dip. What else would this be for?”</p><p>“I mean…” He looked back at the tapestry and blinked, trying to get those doubts out of his mind. He popped on his best brave smile and held Pacifica’s hand. “You’re right. Of course you are.”</p><p>“Heh. Flatterer.” </p><p>The two approached that fairly bland - if considerably tacky and overbearing - pillar and began examining it, Dipper shining his flashlight along the shape, looking for the slightest telltale sign of weakness, trying to squint for the tiniest glow in the UV light. He wished more than ever that he and Pacifica had started wearing their glasses more often. There was a paper thin seam, a small square panel in the stone surface that was barely visible - and to his constantly exhausted, slightly bleary vision, it was no small task to pry it open accurately. </p><p>It was Pacifica’s longer nails that came to the rescue. And her hair pin that made the ideal lockpick for the keyhole that was hidden behind.</p><p>“Dipper, when the hell did you learn how to pick a lock?”</p><p>“Grunkle Stan taught us a few things last Summer.”</p><p>“What, like picking a lock?!”</p><p>“Hey, you never know, alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Pacifica couldn't help but find herself quietly impressed as her boyfriend slowly, intrinsically - and almost entirely without fault - picked the elaborate key mechanism open. With a shallow thunk and a dull creak, the entire front of the pillar swung open, revealing itself to be lined with bulky, iron plating that was riveted in place, with a miner’s cage squeezed into the small gap - with barely enough room for two people on board.</p><p>Behind it, the circuits seemed to continue into a deep elevator shaft.</p><p> </p><p>“After you.” Dipper smiled.</p><p>“Wow. Dipper Pines being a gentleman.” She grinned, pushing his hat down over his eyes. “I mean, what, are we going down together?” </p><p>“If I can help it.” He murmured as she walked past. </p><p>“You’re terrible.”</p><p>“And you’re the <em> worst</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>The two tried their best to put on a brave smile, indulging in their usual sarcastic banter - but they both felt more than a small amount of trepidation - and swiftly went quiet as they both squeezed into that little elevator cage.</p><p>They blinked awkwardly as their noses touched, the cage door clanging shut and forcing them together. Dipper held her hands reassuringly, and briefly considered if it was a good time to kiss her - but as he felt the tremor in her hands, that tense feeling in her chest, and the soft, panicked breathing from her nose, he decided against it.</p><p>With a clatter and a rumble, the cage began rattling into the dark depths below. </p><p>Up on the surface, little were the kids aware that authoritative - if incompetent and amnesiac eyes - were pointing towards Northwest manor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Setting the Stage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p>
<p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p>
<p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It had been 1PM when the Electricity and Utility companies had noticed something strange lurking underground - something that had swiped past their inspectors and disappeared in a Northwesterly direction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had instantly called it in to the town's most senior law enforcement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gravity Fall’s finest were on holiday, and were yet to return after fifteen years. Rumour has it they were caught trying to import PG-13 DVDs into a theme park in Florida. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As a result, it was Blubs and Durland who were called up to the Gravity Falls town hall that evening, to discuss the report they had filed earlier in the day. They were worried it was because they had written ‘Hugs and kisses’ at the end of the official state paperwork again, but that was probably just paranoia. Tyler always allowed for their little quirks and personal touches. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The town’s most elite cops, however - not that it was saying much, mind - were always a little startled when they were called up to the Mayoral office. It meant leaving their cruiser and game of </span>
  <b>
    <em>Proprietorship. </em>
  </b>
  <span>They were going for the accolade of the longest game in history, a bit of a side hobby while going through the sleepy old town’s day to day rigmarole of tiny crimes and uneventful paranormal incidents. So far, it was over seven months long. Another 6 months and they’d be in with a fighting chance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their relatively care free day had pretty much been scuppered the moment they stepped foot inside Tyler’s door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something about this report felt big. They stood there, having explained their day’s calls to Mayor Cutebiker - holding hands almost by reflex. The tension was immense.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tyler sat at his desk, quietly drinking a long, tall glass of water with a hefty level of gusto, before slamming the tumbler down onto the desk and glaring at Blubs and Durland. “Tell me again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Durland looked worriedly at Blubs, who peered over his shades with a raised eyebrow. “You feelin’ alright, Mister Mayor?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I said tell me again, curse your </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredibly handsome</span>
  </em>
  <span> moustache!” Tyler shouted, thumping the desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said somethin’ big has been moving underground, has been since the big storm. The Power company called it in while they were trying to do repairs. An’ my handsome moustache is another matter </span>
  <em>
    <span>entirely</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tyler grimaced. “How big?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty damn big. Said it was like a huge shadow, crawlin’ underground.” Blurbs replied. “They think it’s headin’ someplace. Like it’s got thoughts. Like it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s prolly jus’ one’a them giant gators!” Durland grinned. “Ah’ve always wanted to see a sewer gator!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Durland loves his gators.” Blubs smiled, patting his partner’s back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s no gator.” Tyler replied, staring off into space. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was still deeply troubled by his vague, fractured memories of what had taken place underneath Geron Street. It was still panicked by the slightest smell of fennel or liquorice in his vicinity. It was fair to say there had been a change to the man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cutebiker was still an inoffensive, giggling little man in short-shorts with a generous love of big cats and motorcycles, but one with a greater paranoia - a more cautious figure with unsightly stubble on his chin and a darkening circle beneath each of his broad, blue eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was certain this creature was something to worry about. He just wasn’t sure why. He had felt an… unsettling electricity in the air since the power had gone out, and he was still relying on novelty Summerween lanterns to keep his mayoral office lit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where was it heading?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that’s the strange thing, Mister Mayor. They think it’s headin’ for Northwest Manor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Problem is, McGucket’s not even home.” Durland chimed in. “We caught him tryna smuggle a pig out of the city limits!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Turns out that ain’t even illegal no more.” Blubs sighed. “Crazy world we live in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So there’s nobody in the manor.” Tyler replied. “That’s a small relief.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, uh… not exactly.” The portly Sheriff rubbed the back of his neck. “The Pines family is up there. Some kinda research operation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tyler’s blood ran cold. “The Pines?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blubs even did some investigaterin’!” His Deputy added, excitedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blubs simply nodded proudly, crossing his arms. “I told McGucket, I told him, ‘you better not be running anything illegal up there’. He told me he wasn’t. Who are we to argue?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tyler stood wordlessly and walked to the window, gazing out at the crooked little town he presided over. He was worried. In fact, he was extremely worried. He was still completely unsure as to why.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was it that was echoing in the back of his head? Why could he smell fennel? What was with that strange hissing noise he felt reverberating in the back of his head? Why did he keep remembering the image of Pacifica Northwest swinging up over a hundred feet above him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He twiddled his moustache as he mulled it over. Something was wrong. Something was off, and he knew, somehow, it involved him, the Pines, Pacifica Northwest and some kind of underground nightmare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something related to Geron Street.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we should call Preston Northwest.” He said, quietly, his hands behind his back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sheriff and his deputy were instantly bewildered. There was a pause, as they waited for the Mayor to correct himself. To their surprise, a correction never came. The two looked at eachother and looked back to their civic servant in his wonky trucker cap, who hadn’t even turned to face them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Durland coughed and nudged Blubs to say something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He did, eventually. “Preston Northwest? Why do you wanna go tellin’ that deadbeat?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something tells me it involves him.” Tyler replied, his back still turned - his voice still carrying a certain level of measured intensity. At least, as much intensity as a man like Tyler was capable of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How can this junk involve him? The house ain’t his anymore. Hell, neither’s his kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Somehow, this is related, Sheriff. Trust me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I trust you, mayor, I just don’t quite-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said trust me, curse your </span>
  <em>
    <span>silky </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>smooth VOICE!</em>
  </b>
  <span>” Tyler screamed, throwing one of the Summerween Lanterns to the floor. “Get me Preston Northwest!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. DVDs and Break ins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Mabel and Kevin hadn’t really thought much about the conflict going on between Pacifica and Dipper. They were watching over the top action movies, gunning down ridiculous amounts of sugar and laughing at the more exaggerated scenes that made up Stan’s DVD collection. </p><p>At least, the DVD collection Stan had let Mabel borrow from. He reasoned that NC-17 classification was only valid in North Carolina, and that was the other damned side of the country. So sue him if he only obeyed OR laws.</p><p>...Most of the time.</p><p> </p><p>“So he’s a robot <em> and </em>a traffic warden?” Kevin asked over his third can of Pitt. </p><p>“Yeah. Robowarden.”</p><p>“Who thought that was a good idea? What if it rains?”</p><p>“Maybe they only use him during Summer?” Mabel replied, looking over at her date for the night.</p><p>Their eyes met for what felt like the thousandth time of the night, and it still made her melt with every single occurrence. </p><p>Mabel liked him. Like, really, <em> really </em>liked him. She had shown him her grappling hook skills, taught him how to do basic knitting, and explained her plans for a cat themed amusement park - and he had listened, with genuine enthusiasm. Laughing at her jokes, contributing his own little nuggets of inspiration. He had even recommended they make a smaller amusement park for the cats. It was a level of genius Mabel had always<em> dreamed </em>of in a partner. </p><p>Hell. He had even played the 80s' most crowd-pleasingest ballad <em> Don’t Start Unbelieving </em>by <b> <em>Voyage</em> </b>on guitar for her. </p><p> </p><p>He was smart, he was tough, he had nice hair, and he looked really, really good with nail polish. Kevin Corduroy was basically a dream boy. His gappy toothed smile and sharp chin contrasted perfectly with her now brace-less, rounded features.</p><p>Mabel wasn’t just going through another crush. This was something different. She was pretty sure this was even bigger than Mermando.</p><p>After all this time, she had dealt with Dipper obsessing over Wendy for so long that she’d never, not once, even thought of looking at the other Corduroy kids. How could she have been so blind? How could she have ever missed-</p><p>“Mabel?”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“You’re staring at me.”</p><p>“Whaaaat? No way!” Mabel gushed, waving away the allegation. </p><p>“I know because I was staring at you.” Kevin smiled.</p><p>Mabel tried to stifle her giggling as they kept watching the movie - then, to her surprise, his rough hand took hold of hers, gripping it tightly.</p><p>“I really like you.” He said, simply. “Like, really, really like you.”</p><p>Mabel felt her face go red and held her cheeks. “I-I was trying to keep it subtle but-”</p><p>“Please. You Pines are like us Corduroys. You don’t <em> do </em>subtle.”</p><p>“I’m the most subtle girl you’ll ever meet, Kevin Corduroy. Trust me.”</p><p>“I trust you. But I think I’d be happy if I never <em> saw </em>another girl.” He beamed. </p><p>“Oh, Kevin…” Mabel’s heart skipped a beat as the two drew in closer to eachother. And closer. And closer. This was it. Her 8th kiss. And<em> finally </em> she was certain it was the<em> proper </em>one. The perfect one. That moment she had dreamed of for so long, finally getting over the heartbreak of Mermando, Sidney, Reginald, Geraldine, Catherine, Nosfer, that girl with the false arm from the donut store-</p><p>
  <b> <em>CRASH!</em> </b>
</p><p>The sound of breaking glass echoed from the hallway outside, tearing the two lovestruck ruffians apart as the tinkling of debris rattled just a short distance from the bedroom window.</p><p>“Oh for the love of-!” Mabel roared in frustration as the two got up and ran to the door, absolutely livid that their moment was broken. It was unfortunate for them that, as they entered the hallway, they encountered the one thing Mabel feared<em> most </em>for the evening: The two Grunkles finding out about her perfectly laid plan for a romantic movie night with the redheaded kid that had swept her off of her feet.</p><p>She froze and held out her arms in some sort of vain attempt to hide Kevin behind her. It wasn’t particularly successful.</p><p>“Mabel!” Ford snapped. “Who on Earth-”</p><p>“It’s the Corduroy kid!” Stan choked up laughing. “Mabel, you little heartbreaker! HA!”</p><p>“Stan, take this <em> seriously </em>!” Ford shouted. “You better not have been up to anything in there, young lady, or you’re so grounded that-”</p><p>“Grunkle Ford, we’ve kinda got a bit more of an issue here!” Mabel snapped, pointing at the broken window, her cheeks bright red as she desperately hoped they could come up with some semblance of an excuse.</p><p> </p><p>Things fell quiet as it began to rain outside. </p><p>A figure, dressed all in black, climbed through the shattered archway, his broad shoulders posing heroically as he brushed off the debris and twisted window frame from his protective, designer leather cat burglar gear. </p><p>Of course, any anonymity was immediately removed by the presence of a large Northwest Monogram on his chest. </p><p> </p><p>“Great. It’s Super Jerk.” Stan rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Is that really the best you could come up with?” </p><p>“Shut your yap, Sixer.”</p><p>Preston pulled off his Balaclava and glared, sweat trickling down his brow as he aggressively stepped up to Stan Pines, going chest-to-chest with the older man  - who remained steadfast, untroubled by the confrontation. “Where is my <b> <em>Daughter</em></b><em>, Pines</em>?!”</p><p>“Exploring a home you never let her look around, slick.” Stan replied, cracking his knuckles. “You gonna get outta <em> my </em> face, or do I have to punch <em> yours off </em>?”</p><p>“You’re letting her look around alone?!” Pacifica’s father bellowed in fury. “You couldn’t <em> be </em> more stupid!”</p><p>“Preston, she’s with Dipper.” Ford replied, trying to maintain his cool. He wasn’t very fond of being called stupid at the best of times. “She’s perfectly safe.”</p><p>“What would <em> you </em> know about safe, Stanford Pines?!” Preston replied, practically frothing at the mouth as he whipped his head around to glare at the scientist. “You only just found out that your own niece is with some <em> gappy toothed lumberjack’s son from the middle of the sticks </em> and you think you can teach <b> <em>me </em> </b> about <em> responsibility </em>?!”</p><p>Kevin balked. And making a Corduroy balk was no small undertaking. With barely a moment to judge the situation, he strode up to the middle aged realty magnate and kicked him squarely in the shin, followed by a swift punch to the stomach.</p><p>He sent Preston Northwest to his knees, not dissimilar to how Manly Dan had done to so many trees over a long, illustrious career.</p><p>“Kevin!” Mabel squealed, clapping her hands to her mouth. The group was momentarily stunned, with only Stan beaming with enthusiastic approval. He was pretty sure Mabel had picked a good one, here.</p><p> </p><p>Ford pulled Preston back up to his feet and held his arms behind his back. “Fancy a spot of interrogation, kids?”</p><p>The Northwest patriarch stared fearfully, his eyes wide, as the family - and Kevin Corduroy - circled him. “I’ll talk, I’ll talk! But you need to understand, we have to make this quick! For pity’s sake, don’t you know what’s going to happen?! Cankerblight is coming! He’ll be here any minute!”</p><p>The two Grunkles looked to eachother. “You’d better start from the beginning, pal. Every lie you tell, I’ll let this kid give you another punch.”</p><p>Kevin had no idea what the hell was going on, but he rather liked the methods Stanley Pines used to get information. </p><p>He was pretty sure this was shaping up to be one of the best nights<em> ever</em>. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Rusty Locks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p>
<p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p>
<p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The elevator cage reached its destination with a shuddering clank, its stiff, flimsy gate opening to what seemed to be a hollow of pure darkness. </p>
<p>Pure, pure darkness. The two of them weren't even sure if there was a floor to put their feet upon. </p>
<p>“Do you have a normal flashlight on that keyring?”</p>
<p>“Uh-”</p>
<p>“Thought not,” she smirked, rolling her eyes as she rifled through her pockets for her cellphone. </p>
<p>And kept rifling. </p>
<p>Getting increasingly worried.</p>
<p>Dipper tried not to think about the fact Pacifica was pressing against him even more as she struggled to go through her jacket. Tried and, of course, completely and utterly failed.</p>
<p>"I must have left my phone upstairs or something." She groaned. Her first concern was she might have to buy a new one. Again. It was like her third one in that many years. "Do you have yours?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dipper went through the same motions and shook his head. </p>
<p>"You need to speak to me, Dipper, I can't <em> see</em>."</p>
<p>“Heheh, right, um - I think it might have fallen out of my pocket with the whole spider thing."</p>
<p>"Fantastic. Now what?" </p>
<p>"We use the ultra violet, I guess."</p>
<p>"Great. We can step on the freaky circuit board and see what happens."</p>
<p>"Do you have a better idea?" </p>
<p>"Did I<em> say </em> I had a better idea? Get out the flashlight."</p>
<p>Dipper did as he was told and clicked the cheap little keychain. It immediately picked up more of those angular, pulsing, glowing veins that scattered across the stone floor that emerged below them, coated in lumps of moss and moisture from the hillside it nestled inside. </p>
<p>It was still dark, but the glowing lines that followed the contours of the floor made them confident there was at least<em> something </em>to walk on. </p>
<p>They clambered out together and linked hands as they started exploring the dank walls that wrapped around them, searching for something to switch on the lights, trying to ignore the fact those glowing trails seemed to bunch up into a single trunk, with only singular branches leading off into the other rooms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their instinct was to try and avoid that physical manifestation of a glowing information highway. Dipper had it in his head that it led to Bill. He was sure, almost certain, that Bill wasn’t still out there, but confronting that possibility… </p>
<p>It scared him. Seriously scared him. So many sleepless nights since Weirdmageddon, so much self-loathing, so much fear - coming face to face with that single eye again was genuinely the most anxiety-inducing thing he could think of. </p>
<p>His head was going into overdrive. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Damnit, there has to be a light switch." Pacifica sighed as she felt around the moist - and oddly sticky - walls with increasing frustration.</p>
<p>"Did they even have light switches back then?" he stammered, trying to divert his attention to more… immediate matters. </p>
<p>"I don't know! But they have to have had something, right?!" </p>
<p>"I mean… I dunno, Paz, it’s-” Dipper started speaking before his foot landed on a stone that slipped down with a grinding sound. He pulled back immediately, worried the entire thing would collapse into the void- only for a hollow, dim hissing to wrap around the room, echoing into the distance of that seemingly endless vault.</p>
<p>Pacifica yelped and threw herself onto her boyfriend, causing his lumberjack hat to slip over his eyes. “Is that Curzon?!”</p>
<p>“I… I don’t think so.” He replied, adjusting his hat. “It’s like… gas.”</p>
<p>With an echoing, shallow blast, suddenly, a series of gas-lit sconces were lit with a glowing orange flame, lighting up the chamber around them with rhythmic echoes and sequential lights, until the grey, moist bricks were finally clear to their eyes. </p>
<p>Beneath each light was a network of corroded pipes, that seemed partially rotted in orange, dripping rust that clustered on every joint and seam. They bulged in places, juddering as the gas travelled through them, fueling those warm, glowing lanterns that scattered across the chamber.</p>
<p>“That’s some mad scientist crap.” Pacifica snapped. “I hate this already.”</p>
<p>“Do you think they leak?”</p>
<p>“I think if we light a match down here, the entire mansion will be blasted, Dipper. Does it matter?”</p>
<p>“I mean, it could be poisonous.”</p>
<p>“Then let’s keep looking. Quickly. Instead of you<em> staring at dirty old pipes.</em>”</p>
<p>“Still angry?”</p>
<p>“Better believe it.” She replied, pulling him along with a pronounced stomp in her walk. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The stone chamber reminded them irresistibly of a location from <strong><em>Bloodcraft: Overdeath.</em></strong> It dripped and felt sodden, strangely amphibious - something Dipper, in hindsight, understood considering the fact it had caused The Great Flood. </p>
<p>How could the Northwests not have guessed that would happen? It seemed so obvious. Like so obvious even Mabel would think about the long term consequences.</p>
<p>Was that unfair? He immediately felt like that was unfair. </p>
<p>“Dipper.”</p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>“Is it me or does this seem a bit… prisony?” </p>
<p>They both paused and looked at the trail of large, cast iron bolted doors - beset into the heavy stone walls, again covered in heavy doses of rust and mould, decaying on their hinges. Whatever the doors were, they hadn’t been looked at for some time. </p>
<p>Pacifica walked up to the first of them gingerly and peered closer at the monolithic structure, her eyebrows raised. She waited a moment, listening for the slightest stirring. </p>
<p>There was nothing.</p>
<p>She coiled backwards and thumped it hard, sending an echoing <b> <em>Clonggg </em></b>throughout the room, and a scattering of oxidised iron dust on her fist. She grimaced and wiped it on Dipper’s vest. “Hope you have that weird key Trembley gave you.”</p>
<p>Dipper fronted and tried to pat his vest clean as he replied “Sure, I’ve got it. Want me to-”</p>
<p>“Go ahead. This place is giving me the creeps.”</p>
<p>“What, you think it’ll be any better behind the door?”</p>
<p>“Could it really be much worse?”</p>
<p>“I mean-”</p>
<p>“Dipper.”</p>
<p>“Alright, alright.” He smiled awkwardly, pulling out the key and attempting to open up the old door -  and failing miserably. His weak little nerd arms weren’t particularly effective at this stuff. </p>
<p>Pacifica rolled her eyes and joined in trying to turn it, clasping her hands over his and wrenching the ancient key with him, much to the protest of those old, grinding pieces of machinery deep inside the doorway.</p>
<p>It was a struggle. The chamber’s conditions were clearly not kind to the old mechanics, and, more damningly, they had seemingly remained untouched for quite some time. Orange powder burst in clouds from the pinline gap between the brickwork and corroded metal. </p>
<p>It was rusted shut.</p>
<p>Dipper glanced at her hands, then looked up at her and smiled. “You know I love you. Right?”</p>
<p>“Dipper, not the time nor the place.” She snapped, a little pink touching her cheeks. “I love you too, but you aren’t getting off of the hook.”</p>
<p>“I know, I know, I just wanted to remind you, that’s all.”</p>
<p>There was a pause, Pacifica breaking into a cheeky grin. “Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Then let’s make out, right here, <em>right now</em>.”</p>
<p>Dipper immediately tensed, the key twisting almost instantly as his arm went as stiff as a board.</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Click.</em> </b>
</p>
<p>With a horrendous groaning sound and the screech of raw metal on stone, the rusted components of the door burst into life, grinding away. It took only a moment’s breath before that heavy iron door - several inches thick, laden with wrought, crude bolts - slowly opened up, the gas lamps of the room inside its depths lighting on cue, one by one.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good job, hon.” She smiled, patting her boyfriend’s bright red cheek. “Pure muscle.”</p>
<p>Dipper blinked, watching her saunter into the room. “R-right. Y-yeah.” </p>
<p>He spaced out for a moment before snapping back into action and following her. </p>
<p>
  <em> Sheesh. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. The Laboratory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p>
<p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p>
<p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The room that they fled to was no less intimidating, but far less sodden and tumbledown. In fact, it looked fairly well cared for, similar to the office they had discovered. An elegant, untouched nook in the building’s grand structure, buried deep underneath the mountaintop.</p>
<p>Books leaned over menacingly in huge shelves that were accessed by a ladder on wheels, laden with enormous coffee table tomes that seemed like they’d make better weapons than nighttime reading. The walls were dry, beautifully carved in botanical designs that weaved with pine trees and familiar silhouettes of the Oregon landscape, with taxidermied heads of numerous somewhat anomalous pieces of Gravity Falls wildlife on display - trophy-worthy examples of giant Plaidypi and Stomach Faced Ducks hanging upon the excessively towering walls around them.</p>
<p>It was beautiful and grand, much like the manor - but blighted by its hideous past. The actions of Northwest Manor’s residents made even the most beautiful art within feel like a terrorising creation of hatred - of anger and cruelty from unstable masters.</p>
<p>Fine Mahogany cabinets and desks peppered the room in strictly organised rows and lines, topped with green, gilded leather and Northwest monograms. Beakers, test tubes, and other laboratory doohickeys surrounded them, with pieces of bizarre machinery that consisted of gears, pipes, and pistons, coupled up with electrical valves and old timey bulbs.</p>
<p>Dipper was entranced. Mostly by Pacifica, to be fair, until his eyes caught the elaborate equipment in front of him. Roughly when he tripped over one of the stray copper pipes that ran into the floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Pacifica tried not to laugh as she helped him back up. “Stop getting distracted, Dip.”</p>
<p>“I’m not. I was just… thinking, y’know?”</p>
<p>“Sure.” She chuckled. “There<em> are </em>a lot of pipes and junk, though. I wonder what for. Shame your Uncle Ford isn’t here.”</p>
<p>“We’ll work it out ourselves.” Dipper replied. “We just need to investigate.”“Dipper, Ford is a Scientist. You<em> aren’t</em>. This stuff could be dangerous.”</p>
<p>“What’s the worst that can happen? This place is over a hundred years old. Most of it’s probably stopped working by now. If it ever did. Besides, I’m kind of a scientist, right? I know this stuff.”</p>
<p>The pipe he had tripped over led to an enormous machine - a confusing tangle of mechanics, valves, bellows and gauges, plastered in bolts and cogs that looked like the sort of thing a quirky faux-intellectual college girl would cover her social media blog in. </p>
<p>He rubbed his chin as he looked over the leviathan of brass, copper and teak, trying to work out what on earth it could be for - tapping the shell,, wiping the old gauges and dials clean to get a better look, search for any kind of hint as to what they were dealing with. </p>
<p>“Yeah.” He said again, in hopes to reaffirm his own opinion. “I know this stuff.”</p>
<p>His girlfriend raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t particularly confident. “Even if you<em> did</em>, we’re still teenagers, Dipper. I dunno, this stuff is all still kinda heavy, right?”</p>
<p>“Chill out, Pacifica. I- <em> we're </em> the experts and we could be on the brink of something amazing!"</p>
<p>"Or horrifying."</p>
<p>"Yeah! Uh… Yeah. That'd suck. I guess."</p>
<p>Pacifica rolled her eyes and smirked. It was classic Dipper. A thrillseeker in denial with the charisma of a particularly anxious kitten. All the same, she was still fighting a ton of reservations. Cornelius claimed he could be found<em> down here</em>. She couldn't help but find that slightly unsettling. What was that supposed to mean?</p>
<p>Like, she figured he wouldn’t still be down here. Obviously. But something must have happened down here, right? What the hell was the laboratory<em> for</em>? </p>
<p>She looked up at one of the enormous tapestries from the twenty foot high ceiling and grimaced, as a single eye - though admittedly, one with<em> fantastic </em>eyelashes - stared down at her, beset in an opulent golden embroidered fabric.</p>
<p>Knowing the history of the Northwests, it was probably real gold, too. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She rubbed the back of her neck and grimaced. “I still think it might be a good idea to-”</p>
<p>“Hey, this thing has handles.”</p>
<p>Before Pacifica could finish her sentence, Dipper had grasped the brass handles on the iron cladding of the giant machine and was starting to pull, much to their protest.</p>
<p>He also almost immediately regretted his decision. The two kids screamed at the top of their lungs as they were faced with what lurked deep within that enormous iron construct. There lurked a giant canister, made from thick glass, stained and dimpled with age, held in a series of large cast iron ribs and wrought iron frames.</p>
<p>Inside, there was…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b> <em>The dead body of Cornelius Northwest!</em> </b>
</p>
<p>Well.</p>
<p>What was<em> left </em>of Cornelius Northwest. Practically nothing more than a skeleton, cradled in a series of ropes and harnesses, hermetically sealed - still peering outwards. Lifeless and helplessly trapped.</p>
<p>His remains were still covered in a fine railroad director’s suit, made of luxurious, purple satin, a golden tie pin still twinkling against his lace cravat.</p>
<p>His jaw hung open menacingly, his grey toupee stood upon end, a series of transistors and diodes slammed into numerous points of his head, each one twirling out on cables and pipes. The man - or, well, ex-man, had a glistening lustre, like it has been coated in uneven layers of thick lacquer. It was clear that some kind of ooze, or slime, or<em> something </em>had been used in the giant container, and did little to reduce the horror of facing the long lost Northwest protégé within. </p>
<p>His empty eye sockets were particularly fearful to the kids. They were fixed in a vacant, hollow, black stare that felt like they could peer right to the bottom of the two diminutive teenagers stood ahead of him, regardless of the fact there was nothing held within.</p>
<p>Dipper and Pacifica's reaction was near instantaneous and visceral. They scrambled backwards in a blind panic, chests heaving, limbs shaking, tripping back over those copper pipes and falling to the floor, covering their eyes with their arms. It was one thing to see a zombie, in Dipper’s mind, another thing to see a ghost - but to be confronted by this skeleton, with knowledge of who he was, having seen his writing, seen parts of his life - to see him here, trapped in some kind of hideous mechanical mass, this was enough to drain all logical, cognitive thought from his mind. </p>
<p>The two of them felt shaken up beyond all semblance of reason, holding onto each other tightly.</p>
<p>Pacifica had just encountered one of her ancestors at close quarters, over one hundred years since he had apparently died - an ancestor she didn’t even know she had. And now, here he was, kept inside a horrible great mechanical monster underneath her home’s floors.</p>
<p>This guy had been dead under her feet, in a secret laboratory, in some kind of weird… creepy… tube, for as long as most of her family had lived in the house. She felt sick. She stared up at the lifeless remains with her face pale and hands shaking. She was utterly, utterly terrified - repulsed, horrified, scared and, most of all, bewildered. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen a skeleton before, it was a day to day thing in a town so obsessed with the bizarre. She had seen Summerween props, but this?! This?! This was her family! This was someone she was only just learning had existed, and now-</p>
<p>She felt a tear trickle down her cheek and tried to hide it from Dipper. The weight of what was going on was starting to hit her, and hit her<em> hard</em>. </p>
<p>What the hell had happened to Cornelius Northwest?!</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Communications</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p>
<p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p>
<p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Suddenly, the laboratory fell dark. The gas lamps shut off simultaneously in a single blast of air, their glowing warmth disappearing into the hollows of pitch black darkness.</p>
<p>The two yelped, throwing themselves at each other, their cheeks pressing together as they desperately clamoured to the one piece of familiarity they had in the terrible place. Pacifica practically buried her face into Dipper’s shoulder, squeezing him tightly.</p>
<p>“Pacifica, are you-”</p>
<p>“S-Shut up Dipper, I’m not crying. No more than you’re sweating.”</p>
<p>“So does that mean you are, or-”</p>
<p>“I’m just-”</p>
<p>They both froze. </p>
<p>A familiar smell began to float through the pitch black room, as the sounds of hundreds of spindly legs began to pitter-patter around them. Fennel and liquorice seemed to positively drown their senses, a strange, dank moisture gathering upon their skin, leaving their hands feeling slick and damp.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They heard the crackling sound of a cigar being inhaled, followed by a long, slow breath and a hissing, raspy chuckle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bladdy Nora. Look who it is.”</p>
<p>The kids were silent, save stilted, fearful breathing. They knew the voice, the sneer, the<em> smell </em>all too well. Curzon Cankerblight had arrived, and, it seemed, had taken a particular interest in the two. </p>
<p>In fact, he seemed outright<em> amused </em>by them being inside the family’s secret laboratory.</p>
<p>“Don’t pretend you can’t hear me. I know yer in ‘ere. I was ‘ere to see your Pops, Pacifica. Y’see, the thing is, you destroyed me digs. My entire ‘ome, my marketplace, hell, th’Crawlspace was me bread an’ butter.”</p>
<p>A puff of tobacco smoke surrounded them. </p>
<p>“An you killed it off, didn’t you? Ruined it. Brought it down on top of me. Wrecked the greatest scam this rotten little town ‘ad ever seen. I never thought some blonde<em> bimbo </em>of a spoilt little rich girl would be the end’f it. But y’know, the thing is, I don’t ‘old a grudge.”</p>
<p>He chuckled, in a strange mix of humour and a truly disturbing snarl. Dipper was pretty certain the evil snowglobe seller and curse-merchant was<em> definitely </em>the sort to hold a grudge.</p>
<p>I mean, Pacifica<em> had </em>blown him up. Fair’s fair, he guessed. </p>
<p>“Fancy. Fancy you not knowing yer Pops ‘ad ‘is own little museum, Pacifica. But, y’know, th’thing is, we’re not so different, me an’ yer new family. I ‘appen to believe in learnin’ too.” </p>
<p>A pale blue grin glowed in the darkness, fixed into a cruel, cheshire-cat sneer. Those hundreds of spindly legs rattled in the darkness, creeping around them as the sinister shadow creature spoke. Pacifica briefly wondered where Curzon’s other personalities were. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She was hopeful it was a side effect of the gas explosion. Some kind of regeneration thing.</p>
<p>It just seemed to be him, the ‘main’ head of Cankerblight. No Angus, no weird old lady, just him. She’d usually be the sort to prefer her monsters with one head, but right now, she was worried they could burst out of nowhere and, like, eat Dipper or something.</p>
<p>It made her feel even more fearful than she already was of the cross-dimensional arthropod. </p>
<p>Especially when he seemed to keep<em> speaking</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It isn’t right that yer pops decides wot you do an’ don’t know. ‘Ere, let me show you wot this gadget is for.”</p>
<p>The kids remained silent, trying to swallow the fear that was running through their veins with ever-increasing tenacity, as the shadow creature lurked through the darkness, striding around the room in the same way a car salesman would walk around a used car.</p>
<p>Pacifica whimpered as she felt a wet, shadowy tendril stroke her cheek. </p>
<p>“Don’t you worry, darlin’. Uncle Curzon’s gonna prove just how bad yer folks are. Y’see, me an’ yer family, we worked together. A lot. Could say we were business partners. Pretty cute, innit, to think you were the one who brought it all down? I ‘ave to say, I wish you ‘ad a bit more respect fer yer ‘eritage.”</p>
<p>He cackled to himself quietly as he continued talking, crawling around the two kids. His voice travelled around them, an invisible assault on their senses that seemed like a sinister whisper one moment, and a sharp tongued, mocking speech the next.</p>
<p>“Nathaniel was me best friend, in many ways. Y’see, he knew that, sometimes, the best way to clear up yer competition, it wasn’t by rubbin’ ‘em out entirely. It was discreditin’ ‘em, tearin’ ‘em apart bit by bit. There’s where me curses came in….”</p>
<p>A bright orange glow developed from his cigar as he peered in closer to Dipper, the heat from the burning tobacco almost searing the sweaty teenager’s nose. Dipper grimaced, trying to get that echoing, cockney-accented voice out of his ears, trying to fight off the overwhelming panic that was flooding through him. </p>
<p>“He repaid me with Th’Crawlspace. Told me the Northwests would always facilitate little old me in their rotten little town. Even brought me the odd undesirable to eat. Y’know, gnomes, unicorns, that sort of jazz. As long as I provided curses and… connections.</p>
<p>This guy was meant to have been blown up. Now he was here monologuing. Now he was here talking about something he really, <em> really </em>didn’t want to hear about. And all Dipper could do was sit there fearfully, inhaling cigar smoke from a giant liquorice flavoured shadow.</p>
<p>Pacifica gripped him tighter. It was a pretty good reminder that, no matter what, he had to try and keep it together. He could handle this. He was the expert. </p>
<p>...Right?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Y’see, Nathaniel was a nice bloke, but he was crackers. Bonkers. Completely snafu in the skull. ‘E’d grown obsessed with a fella I met in a different dimension, long ago, y’see, and was desperate to meet ‘im. <em> Itchin’ </em>to meet ‘im.”</p>
<p>Pacifica winced as Curzon regaled them with his crooked tale, unsure what she could believe and what was some sort of wicked, unpleasant fabrication. </p>
<p>She wasn’t sure which she’d prefer, at this point.</p>
<p>“Problem was, ‘ow do you communicate with a weird triangle in a topper? When Nathaniel’s Son went a bit doolally and tried to go whistleblower, he became disposable…”</p>
<p>One of the lanterns lit up alongside the machine, giving the kids a clear view, once again, of Cornelius Northwest’s boney remains. </p>
<p>Pacifica squeezed Dipper tightly. Dipper tried to hold her protectively, stroking her head as they continued acting as a captive audience to Cankerblight - after all, which angle could they escape from if they weren’t sure where the rest of his body was?</p>
<p>Their noses were beginning to burn from the strength of the creature’s natural, fennel filled scent - that saturated, pungent smell of herbs and alchemy that seemed to be a fibre of his very existence. </p>
<p>“And this bloke Nathaniel wanted to meet? ‘E needed a voicepiece if he couldn’t be summoned properly. So Corny here? Corny became a sorta interdimensional telephone. Nifty, a nifty bit of equipment fer any laboratory. The entire thing’s built especially to talk to this single bloke. Yer can imagine ‘ow important ‘e must’ve been, ey?”</p>
<p>Blue, glowing features of Cankerblight turned to face them, his broad, overly toothy grin beginning to slather his familiar, fluorescent saliva, that dripped, bubbled and hissed on the floor. </p>
<p>It was pretty clear that Cankerblight was enjoying his little presentation a lot. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ow’s about we see if old Corny is still workin’, kiddies?” </p>
<p>“Don’t.” Dipper replied, almost by reflex. “You’ll be sorry.”</p>
<p>“Yer not much of a threat to me, Dipper. You’re not as smart as you think you are. You aren’t as capable as you think you are. An’ after tonight? I’ll make sure yer either dead, or a permanent Cipher vessel. Maybe I’ll swap Corny out fer you. ‘E’s seen better days..”</p>
<p>His cigar glowed an angry red, his eyes beginning to darken into a similar scarlet hue as he leaned in closer the kids once again. A giant, dark grey tongue licked along his burnished teeth as he spoke. </p>
<p>It occurred to Pacifica she had no idea he<em> had </em>a tongue. Or an inside of his mouth, for that matter. Perhaps it was because of the way it kind of floated and twirled on his smoking flesh.</p>
<p>She really, really hated how much Curzon was enjoying his moment.</p>
<p>“‘Ow’s that sound? Dreadful? Good.” </p>
<p>A series of thick shadow tendrils wrapped around them and squeezed hard, writhing around them and leaving a thick layer of moisture on their clothes. The pair were beginning to shake and feel more nauseous than ever, their fear beginning to get the better of them. </p>
<p>At first they were afraid, now they were petrified. They weren’t sure if it was a power of Cankerblight’s, or simply a - pretty well justified - fear of what they were facing in the depths of the Northwest Laboratory. </p>
<p>The two teenagers tried to writhe and squirm free - but the slippery texture of the writhing trails of smoke were nowhere near as fragile or slick as they appeared.</p>
<p>Pacifica grunted.</p>
<p>“An’ you think that’s bad, Dipper Pines? Wait until you see what I’ll do to yer girlfriend. Maybe<em> that</em>’ll teach yer Dad a lesson, little miss Northwest. Now, all I need is a little-”</p>
<p>One of his loose, floating limbs came towards her and stroked down her neck - and, as if by command, a trickle of blood followed. Pacifica whimpered as a jolt of pain travelled with it.</p>
<p>“W-what are you doing?” She whined. “Tha-that hurts!”</p>
<p>“This is nothing, girly. But if y’need answers, I need yer blood to switch on this ruddy thing. Gotta be blood relation. Gotta be a Northwest, y’see. It’s ‘ow mosta the stuff I do tends to work, really. The one thing I can guarantee, blondie, is that you <em> aren’t </em>adopted.”</p>
<p>He grinned cruelly. Although that went without saying by now.</p>
<p>“Bet you wish you were, ey?”</p>
<p>Pacifica hung her head and tried to keep herself quiet. She wouldn’t let him know how fragile she was. She<em> couldn’t</em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The writhing monster took a drop of blood from the little cut on her neck, and fed it into an inconspicuous little slit in the machine’s facade. Immediately, it began to start making noises. Hollow, groaning noises.</p>
<p>Thick liquid, a lurid blue in colour - not dissimilar to that which emanated from Curzon’s mouth - began to pour into the chamber with a roar, flooding around the skeleton that had once been Nathaniel Northwest’s railroading son.</p>
<p>The machine’s valves began to hiss and rattle, pipes beginning to groan as they were filled for the first time in what seemed like decades. A dim glow was beginning to appear in the thick liquid as the ancient bulbs lit in a warm, orange hue, like something deep inside was beginning to warm up. </p>
<p>It soon began to pierce from within with a bright, white glow - separated into two beams by the separate eye sockets of the skull that lurked inside. </p>
<p>They tried to look away, but Curzon’s tendrils forced their heads back into place. </p>
<p>“Look at it, kiddies. Look at it. Imagine what poor Corny went through when ‘e was alive. Must’ve been agony, ey? Imagine. All to talk to a wacko in a bow tie…” </p>
<p>The gigantic machine began to vibrate and rattle. It roared and hissed, cogs turning as the liquid was stirred and bubbled by enormous blades at its base. Something was happening. </p>
<p>Something weird.</p>
<p>Something seriously, seriously, sinisterly weird. </p>
<p>A shrill, distorted voice, naturally overenthusiastic, naturally mocking and naturally wicked began to echo from deep within the empty skull ahead of them. </p>
<p>“WELL, WELL, WELL! DOES MY EYE DECEIVE ME?!” </p>
<p>
  <em> He was here.  </em>
</p>
<p>You just couldn’t keep an inter-dimensional villain down. And they didn’t come much more villainous than him.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Interrogation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>The glowing beams from the skull of Cornelius Northwest flickered with any cruel, mocking syllable from the trapped Bill Cipher, occasionally changing colour according to his mood. The petrified kids could see the empty head lit from inside, even with the blue gunk flooding around them. </p><p>It was outright surreal.</p><p>The machine was some sort of telepathic communication device. As Curzon had said, a sort of interdimensional telephone, tuned specifically to Bill Cipher’s frequency, using Cornelius as a mouthpiece.</p><p>Of course, he was nowhere near as powerful when he was little more than a disembodied voice. But the things he knew; the things he had seen, the things he said…</p><p>You wouldn’t know he was weaker. </p><p>“CURZON, IS THAT YOU?! AND YOU’VE BROUGHT ME A <em> SNACK </em>!”</p><p>“Evenin’, Bill. ‘Owzit?”</p><p>“I’M TRAPPED IN A STATUE AND MY NOSE ITCHES. I DON’T EVEN HAVE A NOSE, AND IT ITCHES. THE ONLY WAY THINGS COULD BE WORSE IS IF I HAD YOUR ACCENT! HA!”</p><p> </p><p>Dipper struggled against the tendrils Curzon had wrapped around them, which only tightened in response. His fight or flight couldn’t kick in much harder than it was now, and every little fibre of his being was saying to get the hell out of there before Bill started addressing him.</p><p>Oh man, this was too much. He was meant to be impressing Pacifica, knocking her socks off with his skills, and here they were - trapped as an audience to none other than Bill Cipher and Curzon Cankerblight - and the Grunkles, Mabel, et al didn’t even <em> know it was happening. </em></p><p>He kept struggling, only for Pacifica to grab one of his hands and gaze into his eyes fearfully.</p><p>He looked up at her. And stopped struggling. </p><p>Just held her hands and looked deep into those big, blue eyes. Silently cursing everything that had led them here - and blessing the fact he was, at least, with her. </p><p> </p><p>“I CAN’T BELIEVE PINE TREE IS HERE. PINE TREE AND THE BLONDE LLAMA. MAN, WHAT’S GOING ON THERE? FINALLY GOT OVER THE REDHEAD?”</p><p>The two kids blushed furiously. The mocking, uproarious laughter from their old enemy was just about the last thing they had thought about when they got together - let alone the situation they were currently trapped in. </p><p>Bill was the sort of perso-um. <em> Thing </em>who would mock any pair up, to be fair. That was nothing new. </p><p> </p><p>“YOU TWO HOOKED UP? JUST KIDDING. I ALREADY KNEW. I’VE TRIED MIXING UP A REAL LLAMA AND A PINE TREE. IT SCREAMED ALL OF THE TIME AND BLED FROM ITS EYEBALLS. YOU KIDS WANNA SEE IF THAT HAPPENS TO YOU TOO?!”</p><p>Curzon grinned, puffing on his cigar with gusto as he spoke. “That’s nothin’, Bill. Northwest’s spawn didn’t even know this bladdy place existed! ‘E’d only gone an’ kept us a secret!”</p><p>“HAH! OH MAN! I GUESS PRESTIE REALLY THOUGHT HE COULD TURN A NEW LEAF!”</p><p>Pacifica looked up and scoffed. “My dad? Turn over a new leaf? <em>Please</em>.”</p><p>“THINK AGAIN, BLONDIE. YOUR DAD’S THE ONLY ONE WHO NEVER PRAISED ME. I REMEMBER THIS STUFF. IT’S LIKE HE WAS ASHAMED OF ME! I BET YOU KNOW HOW THAT FEELS, HUH?!”</p><p>The glowing lights in the chamber began to flicker as Bill laughed at his own wit. </p><p>Pacifica wasn’t really up to receiving burns from a triangle using one of her ancestors as a mouthpiece. She jarred her eyes shut and looked away with a furious pout. Also, like… only Stan was allowed to call her Blondie. Who the hell did Bill think he was?!</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Bill.” Dipper finally chimed in. “How does it feel to know my Grunkles beat you with a single punch and a memory gun? Must have felt crummy that you got your ass handed to you by two 60 year olds.”</p><p>“YOU MIGHT THINK YOU’VE WON, PINE TREE, BUT I HAD AN OUT. ADMITTEDLY IT’S NOT BEEN...QUITE WHAT I EXPECTED, BUT WITH YOUR HELP, I CAN BE BACK IN NO TIME. I DON’T EVEN NEED YOUR CONSENT! JUST THIS FREAKY MACHINE!”</p><p>“Yeah? Then what happened?” Dipper replied, doing his best to sound as unconvinced as he could. “Seems like you got pretty defeated to me.”</p><p>“I CALLED IN A FAVOUR WITH THE GUY AT THE TOP, KID. THE VERY TOP. THE GUY IN CHARGE OF THE UNIVERSE.”</p><p>Pacifica cocked her head. “Are you talking about Go-”</p><p>“NOPE! HE’S A GIANT AMPHIBIAN WITH FUNKY FRILLS ON HIS HEAD. HE’S ALSO A JERK. WHO THINKS TURNING ME INTO A LUMP OF LIMESTONE IS FUNNY.”</p><p>The Northwest heir was naturally baffled by the entire exchange. She looked to Dipper with an eyebrow raised and her jaw agape.</p><p>“I uh… I’ll explain the Axolotl stuff when we get home.” He smiled sheepishly.</p><p>“Seriously, you’ve met a giant lizard who’s <em> running the universe </em> and you <em> haven’t </em>told me?”</p><p>“OH THERE’S LOTS HE DOESN’T TELL YOU, BLONDIE. I SEE EVERYTHING. I COULD SHOW YOU EVERYTHING IN PINE TREE’S MIND. I COULD UNLOCK EVERY SECRET HE’S EVER KEPT FROM YOU.”</p><p>Dipper’s eyes widened as he looked at Pacifica. For a moment he was wondering if she’d actually<em> take </em>that sort of deal. He hoped Pacifica was smart enough to know Bill was about as truthful and secretive as… well, as Dipper Pines was. Which kind of hurt to acknowledge. </p><p>“YOU SEE, I’VE HAD PLENTY OF CROSSINGS WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND HERE. I’VE SEEN EVERYTHING. HIS WEB HISTORY, HIS MAGAZINES, WHAT HE DID LAST SUMMER - YOU’D HAVE TO BE <em> CRAZY </em>TO TRUST HIM!”</p><p>Pacifica thought for a minute, still struggling in Curzon’s tendrils as she listened to the echoing tones of the Isosceles terror from within that glowing, blue canister of bones and chemical ooze. </p><p> </p><p>“Then I guess I’m crazy, Bill. No deal.” </p><p>“YOU REALLY WANNA PASS THAT UP? YOU REALLY WANT DIPPER PINES TO KEEP HIS SECRETS?!”</p><p>“I’ll get them out of him myself. <b> <em>No deal</em></b>.”</p><p>Bill went quiet. He was pretty sure that was a decent strategy. In fact, he’d been scripting it in his top-hat-shaped cranium since he had started following the blonde and Pine Tree on their adventures. He was pretty sure he had burnt bridges with the Pines, sure, but the Northwests were meant to be - in his mind - self-serving, and essentially easy to manipulate. </p><p>After all, they had built an entire chapel to him in the hopes of becoming his disciples when the apocalypse came.</p><p>He tried to recalculate his strategy with his overloaded and ridiculously powerful mind, going over every eventually in hope to finding a different ‘out’. </p><p>“WELL, BLONDIE, I’M SURPRISED. I DIDN’T THINK YOUR FAMILY COULD BE MORE MORAL THAN YOUR DAD. LOOK, KID, I’LL LEVEL WITH YOU. I SCREWED UP, HUH?”</p><p> </p><p>Bill Cipher, admitting he did something wrong? There was a situation nobody expected, no matter how hollow, empty and non-existent the facade really was. </p><p> </p><p>“WEIRDMAGEDDON, NOT A GREAT IDEA. I GET IT. YOU DIDN’T LIKE ME MIXING UP YOUR DADDY’S FACE, YOU DON’T LIKE TO PARTY. THAT’S FINE. NO HARD FEELINGS. BUT IF YOU REALLY WANT TO FIND OUT ABOUT YOUR FAMILY, I’M THE ONLY TRUSTWORTHY SOURCE YOU’VE GOT!”</p><p>“You <em> aren’t </em> trustworthy, Bill!” Dipper snapped. “You might know everything but you’d never-mMPH!”</p><p>A smoky tendril wrapped around Dipper’s mouth, snaking around his head slowly, wrapping around him until he could barely breathe. He struggled and fought against Curzon’s engulfing limbs as they smothered him. </p><p>“Dipper!!” Pacifica shouted, trying even harder to struggle. “Curzon, let him go! Please! I’ll do anything, I’ll-”</p><p>“You aren’t gonna do nuffin’, girly. Don’t worry yer little face off, I’m jus’ gonna put ‘im to sleep so you an’ Billy can do business. It’s all just business, luv.”</p><p>“AND IT’S DAMNED FUNNY! LOOK AT HIM GOING BLUE! HAHAHA!”</p><p>Pacifica was freaking out more than ever, kicking and screaming internally as she tried to battle free of the shadow creature’s savage antics against the person she loved more than anyone else in the world. </p><p>She desperately tried to fight it off, to try and wake up from what felt like a horrific, terrible nightmare - to do anything she could to get away from what was happening. She could feel Dipper’s grip loosen as he finally lost consciousness in Curzon’s grasp, slipping free onto the floor.</p><p>“Dipper! Nononono-”</p><p> </p><p>It was then that - for the miscreants that had captured them - things began to go wrong. </p><p>
  <b> <em>THUMP</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>THUMP</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>THUMP</em> </b>
</p><p>A regular, beating crack seemed to echo around the room, from whichever direction the door was in those pitch black conditions. Pacifica tried her damndest to find out, twisting and turning in a hope to work out the doorway, even if it was just for her to find an exit. Or locate a reminder that the outside world actually existed. At the moment it felt more like she was in a separate dimension, something she had no escape from, where there was literally nothing but darkness and that glowing, blue tube full of bones.</p><p>
  <b> <em>THUMP</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>THUMP</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>THUMP</em> </b>
</p><p>Curzon whipped his head around and grimaced. “I think we’ve got company, Billy-boy.”</p><p>“THEN WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? KILL THEM!”</p><p>“‘Ang about, mate, I’m still recovering from being blown up, yeah? I can’t do all of this junk simultaneously until I’ve got all me ruddy heads back!”</p><p>“YOU HAVE A HUNDRED LEGS!”</p><p>“Legs, not arms, mate!”</p><p>“WELL I CAN’T DO YOUR DIRTY WORK THIS TIME, CURZY! I’M STILL A LUMP OF LIMESTONE! JEEZ!”</p><p>
  <b> <em>THUMP</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>THUMP</em> </b>
</p><p><b> <em>CRUNCH!</em> </b> <b></b></p><p>The Pines forced their way in with woodsman's axes, pilfered from the Northwest’s tacky taste in lumber themed decor, all prepared to storm the laboratory with furore.That wasn’t so surprising to Pacifica; in fact, it seemed like pretty standard Pines family stuff.</p><p>What surprised her more was that Preston Northwest was leading them, in a really dumb looking cat burglar outfit with an outsized axe over his shoulders. </p><p>She stared, mouth agape. </p><p>As did Curzon Cankerblight. </p><p>Even Bill had fallen silent. </p><p>Jeez. It was like the whole world had gone insane. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Breaking the Chain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Pacifica could only guess what was going through the minds of the family members that had forced entry into the crooked laboratory. The Grunkles were taking in the room’s content’s with equal levels of confusion and awe, unsure how they could continue the assault. Even Mabel was frozen in disbelief, taking in the scene.</p><p>The only man with no shock and no surprise was Preston himself, who was standing firmly - as if the creatures before him were nothing more than colleagues or estranged friends. Like the wrath of Bill Cipher was no longer a fearful prospect, or the lurking, shadowy presence of Curzon Cankerblight was the equivalent of another day in the office. </p><p>The rest of the miniature army had no such luxury. </p><p> </p><p>Curzon Cankerblight, an unconscious Dipper, a skeleton that was glowing and some kind of twenty ton piece of machinery was <em> definitely </em> outside the usual spectrum of what even <em> Ford </em>dealt with.</p><p>The family ran to the unconscious, young investigator in the vest, but were immediately held back by the shadowy, mysterious being that loomed over him. </p><p> </p><p>Curzon was furious at the interruption, black clouds of smog puffing in thick bursts from his ethereal cigar, his bright red eyes piercing them. For a moment, he was a fierce, growling, maniacal presence that felt ready to strike, like a demented black cobra that spoke in cockney - but he calmed himself into his familiar marketplace persona. “Blummee. Yer exactly who I was ‘ere to see, Preston. Come on, come on in! This is your ‘ouse as much as it is Bill’s, ey?”</p><p>“This isn’t even my house anymore!” Preston shouted. “Get away from those kids and shut that machine down! This is completely out of order!”</p><p>Curzon laughed in his face with a hissing, sharp tone that echoed across every corner of the wooden-panelled room. “Bladdy hell, you lost the entire ‘ouse? Prestie Prestige lost ‘is family manor? You really are th’failure yer Dad said you were! ‘Ere, Bill, see who it is?”</p><p>Ford’s eyes widened. </p><p>
  <em> Bill? </em>
</p><p>His fists clenched. It took every ounce of control for him not to fly off of the handle. </p><p>“HOW AM I MEANT TO SEE? THERE’S THIS BIG SHADOW THING STRANGLING KIDS IN FRONT OF ME!”</p><p>“It’s only Prestie Prestige, mate!”</p><p>Preston snarled. He was clearly familiar with the nickname. “Let go of my daughter, and her boyfriend, right this damned minute, Cankerblight.”</p><p>Bill was immediately enthused. Though it was rare that Bill Cipher<em> wasn’t </em>enthused. "PRESTIE NORTHWEST!? IS THAT REALLY YOU? MAN, AND ALL YOUR ORIFICES IN THE RIGHT PLACE!”</p><p>The millionaire adjusted his tie nervously as he was reminded of his failed dealings with Bill Cipher himself - cursing himself for the terrible PR it had brought, let alone the sheer panic and embarrassment it had dealt him. </p><p>“HEY, WAIT A MINUTE-” Bill spat, doing very little to contain his hysterics. “SIXER, MACKEREL, SHOOTING STAR?! YOU GUYS DIDN’T FORGET ME! I’M TOUCHED.”</p><p>Mabel was not a girl particularly skilled in patience. She promptly ran out to her unconscious brother, uncaring of the shadow creature stood nearby, and dived on him, trying to wake him up. “Dip? Dipper, wake up!! What- what did you do to him?!”</p><p>“E’s only unconscious, girly. Got ‘is nose a bit too close to me arms, that’s all. We need ‘im alive to give to Billyboy, ‘ere.”</p><p>“DON’T WORRY, SHOOTING STAR. WE ALL KNOW MABEL IS HER OWN NUMBER ONE, RIGHT? AS LONG AS YOU GET SOME CANDY AND KITTENS, YOU’RE HAPPY TO LET THE WORLD BURN!”</p><p>Pacifica glared. “That isn’t true, you monster! Mabel’s one of the sweetest people I know!”</p><p>“SO SAID A MEMBER OF THE WORLD’S MOST CORRUPT FAMILY. HIGH PRAISE!”</p><p>She promptly backed down and pouted. “I’m not a Northwest anymore.”</p><p>“THE APPLE DOESN’T FALL FAR FROM THE TREE, KID, EVEN IN MY DIMENSION! LOOK AT SHOOTING STAR. HER GRUNKLES ARE SELFISH WASTES, AND SO IS SHE! SHE JUST RAN AWAY TO HER OWN LITTLE FANTASY AND LET THE WORLD BURN!”</p><p>Pacifica huffed. She was absolutely sick of hearing people say that tree crap, let alone a cyclopic triangle joining in. It briefly occurred to her how ludicrous things had gotten. She felt like she had been strapped onto a waltzer at a cheap fairground.</p><p>The machine rumbled, that blue slurry continuing to churn as Bill used it to talk to the family. One of the pressure gauges lept about erratically, emitting a thin white vapour that released droplets of boiling hot water in bursts.</p><p> </p><p>She glanced over at Mabel who was, at least momentarily, looking at her feet with shame. </p><p>It never <em> didn’t </em>hurt to consider how young and foolish she had been. But Mabel was a different, more mature person now - at least, at heart she was. She knew that better than anyone.</p><p>And she wasn’t willing to take the abuse lying down. “I might have screwed up. But I never wanted to hurt anyone.” Mabel glared and clenched her fists, furiously, glaring up at Curzon. “I think you might be the first, creep.”</p><p>“Ooh, yeah? Wot yer gonna do to me? ‘Ide in a barrel and let yer brother break ‘is arm again? You’re just a daft little girl-”</p><p>“<em>Grappling hook!</em>”</p><p>With a loud splutch, Mabel’s grappling hook flew straight into the red membrane of Curzon’s eyeball, its hooks sinking deep into the glowing red orb of his eye, prompting a loud, unworldly screech of fury and pain from the giant beast. </p><p>Curzon roared furiously, inarticulately screaming about the fact it ‘was always the eyes’ with the ‘bloody Pines family’, trying desperately to wrench himself off of the sharp, throbbing pain that was now engulfing his senses, regardless of how those senses manifested. He tried to pull back, which only resulted in another screech - and a painful reminder that every pull risked him losing his eye.</p><p>He was, at least for now, leashed. </p><p>Mabel pulled the grappling hook taut, backing towards the Pines family in the hope of dragging the giant shadow creature upon the floor and forcing it to drop Pacifica - but Curzon was not a weak creature - even in his substantially reduced form. </p><p>It took the combined efforts of Stan, Ford, Preston, Mabel and Kevin all heaving upon that reinforced steel cable to make even the slightest difference, and it was only through Curzon’s hope for self preservation that he didn’t fight more. He was in no mood to see his eyeball pulled free from his socket.</p><p>He was forced to follow the cable, screaming numerous complaints that aren’t fit for print, red mucus dripping down his shadowy face and his ghostly cigar burning in a furious, white hot glow as his tendrils struggled to undo the grapple’s forceful squeeze upon his eye.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, he uncoiled - Pacifica slipped free from his grasp and fell to the floor, now coated in a thin veneer of Curzon’s fennel scented excretions. She grimaced and tried to wipe herself off before scrambling, clumsily, back onto her feet, trying not to slip on the now slime-addled, sodden slabs beneath her. </p><p>Preston opened his arms to her proudly, only for Pacifica to run past him and throw herself towards Dipper, trying her damnedest to wake him up with numerous pats to the cheeks and a tearful, tight embrace. Preston watched. Not distraught, not angry… but he couldn’t help but take it somewhat personally. His moustache twitched and bristled in frustration as his daughter desperately peered over her boyfriend, ignoring the presence of what - in his mind - was a heroic father, here to prove that all was forgiven, that no matter what, he would be there to make everything right. </p><p>And yet his beloved daughter had blanked him, preferring to run to the scruffy little wretch in the lumberjack hat.</p><p>Curzon began to laugh. A pained, guttural laugh that felt particularly personal - aimed squarely at the middle aged magnate with the overly oiled hair. The shadowy creature’s dark, black brows lowered over his oozing eye socket, a thin, blue streak of glowing saliva dripping from his jaw and fizzling on the stone slabs underneath him.</p><p>"You were bloody brave following yer kid in 'ere, Prestie. All th'stories we could tell 'er about you an' yer family… an' look at 'er. You'd already lost Pacifica, an' wot? You thought you'd get the kid back acting like an hero?" </p><p>“There’s nothing to say.” Preston snapped. “You know our deal, Cankerblight. Don’t go trying to mix this into-”</p><p>“...Deal?” </p><p>Preston froze. Cankerblight gave his broadest, most sickening grin. </p><p>Pacifica stared up at her father, tears running down her cheeks, just as Dipper started stirring underneath her. “… So it’s true?”</p><p>Curzon puffed a thick, bloated cloud of smoke into Preston’s face and beamed. “Nicely done, Prestige. Bloody <em> luvverly</em>.”</p><p>A single bead of sweat travelled down his wrinkled, albeit distinguished brow. His moustache twitched as his eyes darted across the room at his new, unlikely comrades. “Pacifica, I need you to listen to me, and listen properly.” her father began. “This can all be explained.”</p><p>“THIS OUGHTA BE GOOD! I HOPE YOU GUYS BROUGHT POPCORN! I SURE WISH I HAD EXCEPT I’M STILL STUCK IN A-”</p><p>“How did you get back, Bill? Answer me that.”  It was now Stanford who was unable - or unwilling - to hold his patience with his old nemesis. </p><p>While much of the group seemed to hold a certain reverence and fear for the three-sided, top hat donning cyclops, Ford was in no way inclined to offer Bill the time of day. He was beyond furious. For whatever reason, Bill’s very voice seemed to echo in his head. It rattled him. There were few things that could panic Ford Pines, after a lifetime of encountering extra-dimensional horrors - but to hear Bill Cipher again brought<em> more </em>than fear.</p><p>It brought anger. Unrestrained, pure anger that prevented even the slightest rationality in his usually brilliant mind. </p><p>Curzon was about to answer for him - until he was forcefully pulled to the floor once again, his weakened, malnourished state making him increasingly susceptible - especially with the presence of a foreign substance draining his boiling red eyes of fluid - to the Pines family dragging and throwing him around so roughly. </p><p>“STANFORD, YOU’RE STILL THE SAME OLD DUMMY.” Bill cackled. “I WAS NEVER GONE, I’M-”</p><p>“He’s stuck in a statue, Grunkle Ford. He’s just using this… thing to talk to us..” Pacifica said. “He’s not actually here.”</p><p>“DID THE TEENAGE SOCIALITE REALLY JUST INTERRUPT ME? I’M OFFENDED, LLAMA.”</p><p>“Shut. That. Machine. <b> <em>Down!</em> </b>” Ford bellowed, furiously, his teeth gnashing together. “If he’s using this as a cellphone, why the hell are we even paying him the attention?! Shut it off!”</p><p> </p><p>Stan ventured towards it, making a particular effort to trample on any of Curzon that was in his way, his axe still over his shoulder. The enormous machine rattled in fury as that molten blue slurry continued to bubble around Cornelius’s body, the pipes still clunking, hisses of water and steam spitting and coughing through the many joints and valves that made up that intimidating, mechanical edifice. </p><p>“YOU THINK YOU HAVE THE STONES, MACKEREL? YOU THINK YOU DARE TOUCH SOMETHING YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND? REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME?!”</p><p>“Did this jerk just call me<em> mackerel? </em>”</p><p>“Stan. Shut it down. Ignore him.” Ford said.</p><p>“You can’t.” Preston snapped. “You can’t! Trust me, even if it shuts Bill off, you-”</p><p>“I what?” Stan asked, glancing at the rattling pressure gauge. He was beginning to hesitate - his decision being far from informed by the endless arguments that surrounded him. He was a man used to using his fists, not his judgement. </p><p>“Why the hell would we listen to you, Northwest?!” Ford barked in response.</p><p>“Because I know how the damned thing works!”</p><p>Stan raised an eyebrow. “Hey uh, wait a minute here, I’m not some science buff but-”</p><p>“Do it!” Ford replied, now growing increasingly aggressive and short in tone. “<b><em>Now!</em> </b>”</p><p> </p><p>Stan’s eyes darted at the kids, at Curzon, at the panicking Preston Northwest, and his resolute, beloved brother, nodding eagerly for him to finish the job. The machine hissed and fizzled, and, for a moment, the old man came face to face with the glowing eye sockets of Cornelius Northwest. </p><p>What good could possibly come from a machine that used human remains as a telephone? It was hard for Stan to argue with his brother’s wishes to take charge of it. He rubbed his sandpaper-grain chin as he examined the horrendous, pulsating unit that stood ahead of him.</p><p>He grabbed one of the largest valve wheels and began to turn it gingerly.</p><p>“Uh… huh. Well, righty tighty, lefty loosey.”</p><p> </p><p>His suit struggled to hold his naturally broad arms as he put his muscle into the handles and began to turn the valve wheel forcefully. It had seemingly been kept perpetually open for several years, and hadn’t seen the slightest oil or lubrication in some fifty, sixty or seventy years, as if the entire thing had always been waiting…</p><p>It screamed and groaned in irritation as it was forced shut by the bulkier Pines twin. The blue, translucent mortar began to stop churning, and, slowly, started to drain away. With it, so did the sound of Bill’s voice.</p><p>“YOU MIGHT BE SILENCING ME NOW, PINES, BUT I’LL BE BACK! I’M NEVER FAR AWAY! I CAN SEE EVERYTHING, AND I HAVE A PLAN. BELIEVE ME, IT ISN’T PRETTY! <em> IT ISN’T Pretty- you’re all going to-...” </em></p><p>The machine hissed spat, and whistled.</p><p>At least, for now, their meeting with Bill Cipher was over. The teasing tones of the cross-dimensional demon echoed away into silence, the skeleton of Cornelius Northwest slowly going back into darkness. </p><p>It was almost too easy. The chaotic rumbling, the sounds of churning ooze and the rattling of pipes all died away, returning the horrific, tumultuous refrain of the laboratory dying away, returning them to darkness and relative solace.</p><p> </p><p>Stan breathed a sigh of relief; but it was short lived. Preston rapidly grabbed him by the lapels and went nose-to-nose with the old man. </p><p>“Don’t you know what you’ve just done?!”</p><p>“I haven’t a freakin’ clue, pal.” the older man replied - truthfully, albeit incredulously. </p><p>
  <b>BANG!</b>
</p><p>It was like the sound of gunfire. A large, iron rivet flew from one of the pipes and shattered one of the dust-addled test tubes across the room. Then another.</p><p>“What… exactly was that crud, anyway?”</p><p><br/>“<em>Trouble</em>.” Preston snarled. “And your <em> incompetent </em>family has just unleashed a ton of it.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Lifeblood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>BANG!</b>
</p><p>Another rivet flew skywards, almost skimming Mabel’s nose as she continued to hold the grappling hook firm, Curzon Cankerblight still firmly trapped into conforming with her movements, to keep his eye - still oozing, still dripping and still pulsating - inside his skull-less face.  with Kevin’s arms wrapped around her waist. If she was a less sensible girl, she would be attempting to flirt with him during the incredibly tense moment.</p><p>It was far to say Mabel couldn’t, in reality, get much less sensible. </p><p>“Oh my, Kevin. I can practically feel your biceps…”</p><p>“Mabel, is this really a good time?” Kevin laughed nervously, his cheeks gaining a pink tinge as he fought to keep the bizarre monster under control with her - now growing increasingly aware of the shrapnel bursting free from the old copper pipes in the floor.</p><p>“Feels like the perfect time to me, mister... Oh!” Mabel giggled as Kevin lifted her off of the floor and heaved her back from the source of danger, another rivet flinging by and very nearly scraping his pompadour. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>A thin, blue trickle of that unidentified sludge began to spurt from the stricken pipe, as another heavy rivet was thrown free, shooting into one of the bookcases with a dull thud that sent dust flying from its yellowed tomes and piles of cracked vellum.</p><p>“Blimey. That’s convenient…” Curzon grinned.</p><p>The shadow creature began to lurch upwards, and, with a sudden jolt, pulled - hard. With a roar, his teeth fiercely gritted, the smoking, trailing anomaly heaved against the reinforced steel cable, almost dragging the Pines with him.</p><p>Mabel and Kevin held firm - and watched, in horror, as Curzon ripped himself free forcefully, leaving his own eyeball behind, still sunken, wet and oozing against the sharp grappling hook arms. </p><p>It fell to the floor with a dull squelch, splattering outwards like an over-ripened tomato hitting the concrete.</p><p> </p><p>Pacifica scrambled away fearfully. She was beginning to feel sick again. She held the barely stirring Dipper tightly. It was hard to tell if it was for him to protect her, or vice versa. Neither seemed particularly feasible. </p><p>Preston ushered the group backwards with his teeth gritted. “Get back. Get back.”</p><p>"I contributed to building this thing wi' old Nathaniel. I gave 'im somethin' pretty precious, in fact. I gave 'im bits of meself.”</p><p>He crawled around the leaking pipe and slipped out his black, shadowy tongue. The family stared as, with his now single-eyed grin still fixed to them, he started lapping up that strange, blue liquid. </p><p>The smell of fennel and liquorice had never been stronger. </p><p> </p><p>Pacifica and Mabel were now both trying not to throw up. Preston stood resolute, his face emotionless.</p><p>“Y’see, this stuff is<em> from </em>me. It’s like me essence. Me source of power. That make sense?”</p><p>“What <em>are</em> you?!” Ford finally demanded, rooting in his trenchcoat for the appropriate weaponry.</p><p>“I’m not of this world, matey. That’s all you need to know. An’ it turns out, yeah, me innards are a dab ‘and at crossin’ dimensions, connecting folk, manipulatin’ reality… so when Nathaniel wanted a little communication channel, I volunteered to offer some Curzon mystery soup in exchange for an’ ‘ome underneath Geron street. A nice business opportunity for meself, some curses for Nathaniel’s enemies… y’pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down?”</p><p>Pacifica glared up at her father. “Then what’s the deal, <em> Dad</em>?”</p><p>“I- Pacifica, you need to understand how complex these things are. It’s business, it’s-”</p><p>“Yer Dad’s part of the deal is to keep me facilitated. Or all of the tricks I’ve done fer yer family, they can go public with nothin’ more than a couple’a letters and well placed leaks. Yer Dad ‘as a lot of guilty secrets, Blondie.”</p><p>“What <em> kind </em>of secrets?” Pacifica asked through gritted teeth, still glaring at her father.</p><p>“You don’t need to know.” Preston replied. “Isn’t all of this secret <em>enough </em>for you?”</p><p>“Oh aye, keep it quiet, Prestige. Don’t want yer daughter to ‘ear about the folks your family ‘as ruined for your gain. You’ll work it out, blondie. If I let you live.” Curzon grinned, sucking up more of the thick, glue-like substance. </p><p>Slowly, his missing eye seemed to unfold, rolling back into his face through the thick, writhing shadows of Curzon’s skin, glowing with a brighter fury than ever. </p><p>“He’s… he’s mutating…” Dipper stared, wide eyed - frightening Pacifica out of her wits.</p><p>“Ohmygod, Dipper! Are you okay?! Are you hurt?! Let me-”</p><p>Her father rolled his eyes furiously at his daughter’s misplaced concern over the 13-year-old Ruffian who had taken her away from the Northwest household. And, by virtue, caused all of these damned problems.</p><p>Preston would be more than happy to throw Dipper straight into Curzon’s dark maw if he got the choice. Was it strange for an aging multi-millionare to have a vendetta against a thirteen-year-old?</p><p>He furrowed his brow and took a deep breath as he tried to preserve his inner sense of dignity.</p><p>“I’m fine,” Dipper groaned, rubbing his head. “But… what’s happening…?”</p><p>“He’s regenerating,” Preston replied. “And it shan’t be pretty.”</p><p>The replacement eyeball was joined by another. And another. His body lengthened and began to curl out of the room, joined by more and more twitching, spindly, exo-skeletal legs. Further faces began to gather upon his form, familiar presences that had once held stalls across The Crawlspace, bursting from him like pustulant boils, releasing fresh bursts of smoke, fennel, and liquorice that threatened to overwhelm the senses. </p><p>He pulsated, smokey tendrils wrapping around the room, his enormous body latching into the laboratory’s mahogany panelling and the building’s innermost fabrics, becoming less of a centipedal creature and more of homogenous, poorly defined lump - a creature with several eyes, several mouths, and a mass of thrashing, twirling limbs that lashed out spontaneous whip-cracks that came scarily close to the mortals that stared up at him.</p><p>At <b>it.</b></p><p> </p><p>If Curzon wasn’t a monstrosity before - and most would be inclined to say he was - he was now a complete Lovecraftian nightmare. A creature of what seemed like pure darkness, endless mounds of eye and teeth, a cigar wheezing and billowing between his fearsome jaws. A crawling, dripping, slick mess of dark, twisting, twirling smoke that seemed little more than a continuation of his fearsome body. </p><p>Impossible contortions became his new norm, that familiar Van-Dyke-esque cockney disappeared, and his smile began to melt into several, terrifying grimaces that seemed constantly leering, constantly demeaning, constantly hating.</p><p>His largest legs had grown into strange, twitching pincers that cracked and clicked against eachother’s joints. There was the occasional tear and hole in Curzon’s body, splattered against the walls, revealing bursts of mahogany and stone that stood out strongly against his pitch-black shadow, all soaked in his strange, clear slicks of fennel scented moisture.</p><p>“My god…” Ford mumbled. </p><p>“Sweet blazes.” Stan added.</p><p>“Cool!” Mabel beamed.</p><p>An echoing, pulsating voice of hatred that scraped and hissed like fingernails upon silk burst from Curzon’s dripping, drooling mass. “Your family took away my home, Preston. I think it’s only right that I should take back what I gave your family. My very power. My strength. My essence. Our deal is off. And I now consider you to be in debt to me…”“Get out. All of you.” Preston snapped. “We all need to leave. Now. You have no idea what we’re dealing with.”</p><p>“Ya don’t have to tell me twice, Slick.” Stan replied, grabbing Dipper, Mabel, Kevin and Pacifica by the collars and pulling them back.</p><p>The entire group made a bolt for the door, with Curzon’s elongating body following them close behind - desperately trying to escape his terrifying, ensnaring visage that seemed to crawl and plunge into every nook, every cranny and every crack in the ancient, subterranean layers of Northwest Manor. </p><p>The convulsing, shadowy mass sneered. “This mansion is now <em> mine</em>!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Tactical Retreat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>It was dark. Jade liked it when it was dark. There she was, pedalling her work-provided pushbike like billy-o up the harsh gradient that led to Northwest Manor, the hot pizzas balancing precariously, strapped to the pizza shelf at the rear of the bicycle.</p><p>She had never really thought about a delivery role in <b> <em>Matzio Moose’s Pizza Palace </em> </b>as her first job - she had always, really, wanted to work as a chef, not a bike rider who carried pizzas to people’s doors. But hey, as tedious as it could be, how many 14 year olds could get such an easy job and get paid so well?</p><p>Gravity Falls was a small town, and she knew it practically door-by-door. She’d only have to do two or three deliveries a night, and would walk away with just shy of forty bucks in her pocket. It was a win-win situation, and she got a free lunch out of it.</p><p>Sure, sometimes the customers were a little odd - that guy with the pizza shirt had now ordered twenty times in only fifteen days and always seemed perpetually disappointed when he had to pay - but this was Gravity Falls. Everyone was a little odd.</p><p>Hell, she was probably a little odd. What was the big deal, right? It was for reasons like this that all Oregon pizza-delivery-people carried tasers according to some weird by-law about protecting precious goods. </p><p> </p><p>She leaned her bike against one of the dollar-shaped topiaries and carried the food up to the door, ringing the bell. Naturally, delivering to the most expensive property in town had her expecting a pretty decent tip.</p><p>Those expectations disappeared when the customers ran out of the mansion’s doors at full pelt. She watched in bewilderment as some of the town’s most famous residents flew past her towards the battered old convertible that was diagonally parked nearby.</p><p>“Hey, I’ve got your Pizza-”</p><p>“Change of address, sweetheart,” Stan said hurriedly, searching for his car keys. “Take ‘em to the Mystery Shack!”</p><p>“But that’s the other side of town!”</p><p>“We’ll tip you twenty bucks!” Stan replied.</p><p>They all crammed into Stan’s El Diablo as a looming, shadowy set of features arrived at the door, glaring at the diminutive delivery-girl and snarling, his acidic blue phlegm flying past the youngster with the sidecut. </p><p>She almost instinctively threw the complimentary twelve inch cheesy garlic bread at the glowing red eyes of the creature and shot him with her official Matzio Moose branded taser. It had a more desired effect than she expected - the face began to scream in a horrific, echoing, high pitched bellow that made the building’s windows rattle, its eyes turning a bright white as the electricity threw it backward and, momentarily, disabled it. </p><p> </p><p>“Freakin’ nice!” Kevin grinned - much to Mabel’s chagrin. </p><p>Jade was almost deaf to the compliment, as she immediately slammed the doors shut and ran back to her bike. “What the hell was that thing?!</p><p>“Long story.” The Corduroy kid replied. “Just uh… leave. Quickly.”</p><p>Jade nodded, gave a terrified, brace-addled smile, and made off as rapidly as she could. Kevin barely even noticed the harsh glare that Mabel met him with as he climbed into the El Diablo. </p><p>“Were you flirting with her?!”</p><p>“What? I just said it was nice-”</p><p>“Oh sure, it’s nice. Sure, you’re nice to random pizza girl! I have my eyes on you, mister!"</p><p>Kevin rolled his eyes and smiled."Goofball."</p><p>"<em> Your </em> Goofball. Don't you forget it." She smirked, prodding him firmly in the chest.</p><p>"Like I ever could." </p><p> </p><p>While this was going on, Pacifica was fussing over Dipper, checking him for bruises, adjusting his hair, cleaning him up, and squeezing him tightly, desperately overcome with happiness that he was alright. </p><p>"I was so worried! Don't you ever do that to me again, Dipper Pines!" </p><p>Dipper was shaken up, but, having missed much of the discourse, was relatively untroubled by what had gone on during his little blackout. "W-what, get suffocated by a giant centipede thing?" </p><p>"Get hurt!" </p><p>"I mean, it didn't <em> hurt</em>, I just-" </p><p>Pacifica shoved the lumberjack hat down over his face and cuddled him tightly, nuzzling into his neck, a smile curling up her face. "Dork. You were brave as hell in there."</p><p>"Hey, I'm the expert, right?" </p><p>"You're an expert in wearing hats that don't even match your outfit. Other than that, you're just Dipper Pines, and that's perfectly fine for me. Okay?" </p><p>Dipper smiled awkwardly and wrapped his arm around her. </p><p>Preston just huffed in thinly veiled anger, folding his arms and crammed between the two teenage couples as they went through their immature, romantic rubbish. Although, he had to confess, he'd never seen Pacifica look so happy than when she was with this rotten little family. </p><p>He watched her through the corner of his eye - seeing her closing her eyes, holding Dipper and smiling peacefully, as if everything in the world was well - even with the ridiculously dark, unpleasant circumstances they had escaped from. </p><p>It was hard to<em> dislike </em>the fact his daughter was happy. But he was... resolute in trying to do so. Fairly resolute. </p><p>Maybe this<em> was </em>the best thing for her, in a weird kind of way. </p><p> </p><p>"Preston. Preston!" </p><p>"Ey?" </p><p>Preston snapped back into reality to the increasingly impatient Ford Pines, addressing him from the shotgun seat. </p><p>"You're going to have to help us if we want to take that… <em> thing </em>down, Northwest. You clearly know it better than anyone else, so help us."</p><p>"I'm not sure what you expect me to tell you, Pines. I'm not the sort of man who hunts these kinds of freakshows. I only know that Cankerblight's… blue gloop can power an entire town alone. He's immensely powerful."</p><p>"Well where does he damned well come from?!" </p><p>"As far as I understand it? Another dimension."</p><p>Ford glared at him in fury, more than a little irritable at the slightest suggestion that somehow, such a technology was possible before he had begun work in Gravity Falls. His obvious disdain for the Northwests had never, truthfully, been more clear. </p><p>"Stop trying to muddy the scent, Northwest. We both know that's not damned true."</p><p>"You really think you were the first to cross these things?" Preston replied. "People have been trying to bring Bill here for centuries, Pines. You were just the only one<em> stupid </em>enough to<em> do </em>it. Even Nathaniel Northwest knew better, and he spent four decades drinking mercury.”</p><p>"I'll wipe that moustache clean off of your face, you f-" </p><p>"Will you two shut your yaps?!" Stan shouted, slamming his fist onto the dashboard. The car veered worryingly into the other side of the road. "Focus on getting rid of the jerk, huh?!" </p><p> </p><p>Ford took a deep breath and sighed. Things fell quiet for a few moments as the tension began to settle in the rattling old automobile. Stan had taped over the oil change warning light about two years ago, so it made sense the thing wasn't particularly quiet... </p><p>"The reason I was<em> asking, </em>" he continued, "is that he seemed sensitive to electricity. That pizza girl's taser knocked him back."</p><p>Preston rubbed the bridge of his substantial nose. "He's like a giant battery, Ford. He doesn't work like an animal, he's more of a… of a giant dimensional glitch. Like a wormhole that's grown legs."</p><p>"So when <em> more </em>energy is brought to him, what could happen?" </p><p>"I don't <em> know</em>, Pines." The millionaire replied, still with no small amount of irritation. "I know that he was always dead set against the idea of electricity throughout underground parts of the manor, and in the Crawlspace. He could use it to regenerate if he got hurt, but-" </p><p>"The power cut!" Dipper gasped. "He brought down all of the lines to regenerate!"</p><p>"<em>Bravo </em>." The older man replied dryly, rolling his eyes and adjusting his tie. “Did you work that out by yourself, boy?” </p><p>Dipper went quiet. Pacifica twitched and felt like kicking her dad in the shin.</p><p>"The issue,” Northwest continued, “is that he's<em> unstable</em>. The more energy, the more unstable. That blue… slurry is like his power storage or some… interdimensional technobabble. It's how he works.”</p><p>Ford rubbed his unshaven chin as he pondered. After the big confrontation with the voice of Bill, he had clicked back into a more rational, thoughtful mindset - looking for solutions to the problems the family were facing. “So if we caused a power surge?”</p><p>“I haven’t a clue. Do I look like a scientist?”</p><p>“Ya look more like some sort of retired ninja kissogram, ya jerk.” Stan replied. “Fact is, if it wasn’t for you keeping this junk we wouldn’t have a problem. So you’re gonna stick with us until this mess is sorted. Get it?”</p><p>“You can’t just- just keep me hostage!”</p><p>“Sure we can, pal. Pacifica, that alright with you?”</p><p> </p><p>Preston whipped his head around and glared at his daughter, silently telling her exactly how she should respond. She barely flinched. She simply glared in kind, mimicking her father’s controlling attitude.</p><p>His eyes widened in surprise. </p><p>She was still furious that all of this had led to Dipper passing out, let alone the ever-depressing reality of her family’s past and corrupt behaviour. They had literally been making deals with the worst of the worst. She knew they were bad, but…</p><p>That was a person. That was a person inside that machine. Nathaniel’s first born Son. That was… that was<em> grotesque</em>. It wasn’t just cruel, it was insane. It was horrific.</p><p>And what had her father done about it?</p><p>Nothing. He had followed the status quo, let their family stay the same as it had always been, ignored the literal skeletons in the family’s closet. Instead of doing the decent thing and breaking the chain. Sure, it wouldn’t be easy, but it was <em> right</em>. That was the difference. </p><p>Her family had never seemed to just do the right damned thing.</p><p>She had never felt so much utter disdain for her family before. And she hadn’t even finished reading the notes from Tobias Determined.</p><p>“He’s not my Dad anymore. Do what you need to fix <em> his family’s </em>mistakes.”</p><p>The rest of the car journey home was particularly quiet. Save the occasional smack of Mabel’s lips on Kevin’s cheek and Pacifica’s sigh of relief as she laid her head on Dipper’s shoulder, happy to, at least, be sure that he was safe. </p><p>Even if the night’s events were far, far from over.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Dynamo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p>
<p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p>
<p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Preston was not entirely comfortable in the Mystery Shack, and not entirely comfortable with Soos peering over his shoulder, loudly eating a plate of supper spaghetti. Supper spaghetti was the same as normal spaghetti but served with a glass of hot milk. </p>
<p>The Northwest Patriarch grimaced at the sound of slurping and spattering tomato sauce, trying to hold his stiff upper lip as well as he could.</p>
<p>“So there’s a giant monster in Northwest Manor huh? I dig it. Whatcha gonna do?” Soos asked between mouthfuls of pasta. </p>
<p>“We’re going to shock him.” Pacifica replied, watching as Ford tinkered on the checkout table in the middle of the gift shop.</p>
<p>“Dude, seems a little harsh. Electric shocks are pretty sore, dawg. I stuck my tongue into a tesla coil and I’m pretty sure I opened up a portal into another world. Met an anti-Soos.”</p>
<p>Dipper looked up at him in bewilderment. “Are you sure that wasn’t a dream?”</p>
<p>“Na, dude, I’m never sure. It’s like a 50-50.”</p>
<p>“Seriously, <em>that</em>’s a 50-50?!”</p>
<p>“Dipper, bro, this is Gravity Falls. Of course it’s a 50-50.”</p>
<p>The young investigator had to submit. That was pretty difficult to argue with. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was really rebuilding this in the hopes of going off-grid.” Ford explained. “But I figure it’s a pretty damned good prospect for this uh… problem.”</p>
<p>Dipper’s eyes widened at the sight of the Stanford Dynamo. “Wait, you rebuilt it?! Grunkle Ford, you know what that thing’s capable of!”</p>
<p>“Dipper, it might have caused us to get sucked into a digital nightmare, but it’s also a source of perpetual power - and doesn’t cost millions of dollars. Do you have a better idea?”</p>
<p>Pacifica winced. “I dunno, Ford, I’m not really interested in going back to escaping from Bloodcraft, thanks.”</p>
<p>“Then we won’t even be in the room. Only Curzon. Besides, we won’t be playing a video game this time; where’s the risk?”</p>
<p>“How about the fact we don’t even know this power plan is a good one?” </p>
<p>“There were risks with the Large Hadron Collider, Alcohol, Television and the Internet. And only two out of four ended up being terrible. It’s a risk we have to take.”</p>
<p>“Wait. I get the first one, but which of the other three-”</p>
<p>“Quiet. Pass me the screwdriver.”</p>
<p>The family watched in a mixture of concern and fascination as the energy device was stitched back together for what may be its last time on Earth, Ford doing so with his usual, impeccable coordination and eye for detail.</p>
<p>He also painted it red with some neon blue racing stripes. There was never an excuse for ignoring aesthetics. </p>
<p>“So your big plan is a multiplug.” Preston grimaced. “This is how you’re planning to destroy the creature in my basement.”</p>
<p>“It isn’t your basement anymore, and it isn’t a multiplug. Let me make this clear, Preston, you’re hanging on here by a <em> thread</em>. You can criticise, or you can do the only<em> positive thing </em>your<em> entire life </em>has ever consisted of, and<em> help us. </em> Got it?”</p>
<p>The man in the monogrammed cat-burglar outfit took a step back, still startled by the fact this family seemed so content to talk to him like that. He was at a loss for words, and looked to Pacifica for her to defend him - but it never came. </p>
<p>She was busy holding that… boy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He snarled. “I’m collaborating because I want rid of that thing, not to help you. I’ll be quiet, Stanford, but if things go wrong, I shall hold <em> you </em>responsible.”</p>
<p>“That’s fine, Preston. I’ve held you and your family responsible for the entire thing, and I’ll continue to do so.”</p>
<p>“Oh man!” Soos grinned. “Stan two totally just served you!”</p>
<p>“Stop calling me that, Soos. It’s Stanford. Or Ford.” </p>
<p>“Yessir, Mr. Pines 2.”</p>
<p>Ford took a restrained breath. “I take it you’re coming with us, Soos?”</p>
<p>“Na, dude. To be honest I’m not sure this Supper Spaghetti was a good choice. Got some crazy heartburn, bro.”</p>
<p>The older man tried to keep his relief as subtle as possible. “Right. I think we’d better take this back to the manor, and get things cleaned up.”</p>
<p>“You really think this is a good idea?” Pacifica asked, peering at the now brightly painted multiplug, twisting her lip.”I mean, it really didn’t go so well last time.” </p>
<p>“It’s all we have, Miss Northwest.” Ford smiled. “Besides, think of it as a dose of instant revenge, after what he did to Dipper. We get this sorted out, and you can go back to your little investigation. Sounds like a good deal, right?”</p>
<p>She rubbed her arm and smiled nervously. “I suppose. I just-”</p>
<p>“I have every intention of making this right, Pacifica. Quentin Trembley knew of it all, and I expect Tobias Determined did too.” He grinned, giving a knowing wink.</p>
<p>“You- you knew?”</p>
<p>“I’m no fool. Apparently, neither was the 8th and a half president. His old paperwork had plenty to say about our friend Curzon, and Nathaniel Northwest’s little plans.” He grinned as he popped the Stanford Electric Unit into a lead-lined box and dusted his hands. “Now come, let’s give this creature the Pines treatment.”</p>
<p>Pacifica blinked and held Dipper’s hand tightly, giving him a broad smile. “Your Grunkles are amazing.”</p>
<p>“My Grunkles are crazy. I think we must be considering what we’re getting wrapped up in…”</p>
<p>“Then there’s nobody I’d rather be crazy with.” She smiled, tapping his nose. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was roughly five minutes later when the Diablo roared past the Matzio Moose’s pizza bicycle, and its long suffering cyclist. She stared helplessly as it flew down the road, playing Stan’s usual favoured blend of 1950s themed 1970s tunes.</p>
<p>“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” She mumbled as she arrived at the Shack. “What the hell is with these guys? Is this a prank?”</p>
<p>“Dude! Bring those ‘zas over here, you wanna hear my new DJ set?” Soos grinned excitedly, sticking his head out of the airstream window. “I’ll pay for ‘em, girl-bro, those guys are off to kill a giant shadow.” </p>
<p>Jade just stared at the portly man with disbelief, before shrugging and getting back on her bike. The cries of anguish echoed across the forest. Truly a tragedy.</p>
<p>“Dude! Dude, wait! <b> <em>DUUUUUUDE</em> </b>!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The family happily sang along to <b> <em>Washington Helicopter</em> </b>as they made their way down the forest highway - though, Stanford’s behest, it was decided it would be safer to leave Kevin at his family’s cabin. He hadn’t even taken the time to discuss it. The two Grunkles simply parked up outside the Corduroy cabin and explained their perspective.</p>
<p>The protests from both Kevin and Mabel were predictable. </p>
<p><br/>“Hey, hang on!” Mabel pouted. “I don’t want him to leave!” </p>
<p>“Then you can stay at their cabin too, if you like.” Ford smiled. “This shouldn’t take long.”</p>
<p>“But I wanna see that creep blow up!”</p>
<p>“Look, sweetie, Pacifica’s used to this junk by now - we’re fine traumatising members of the family, but uh… Kevin’s dad might not take kindly to his kid seeing a cross-dimensional rift. I’m already a bit unsure about the whole ‘seeing human remains’ thing.” </p>
<p>Kevin sighed. “I’ve seen worse! My Dad has trained me for this stuff!”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry kid, but your Dad’d turn me into a pretzel if he knew about this stuff.”</p>
<p>Kevin shrugged. “Maybe, but-”</p>
<p>“And there we go, all the confirmation we need.” Stan laughed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mabel watched the discussion, her face long and her lip trembling. “Will… will you guys be angry if I go with him?”</p>
<p>“Sweetie, we’re a family. Our main interest is keeping you kids happy. If you feel happier with Kevin than having your life threatened, that seems reasonable to me.” Stan grinned. </p>
<p>Dipper nodded enthusiastically. That was the final line of convincing that Mabel really needed.</p>
<p>“Then don’t you<em> dare </em>die.” she retorted, pointing accusingly at each of them. Except Preston. She didn’t really care if anything happened to Preston. “I’ve got my eye on you guys!”</p>
<p>She gave each of them - except Preston - an enthusiastic hug and skipped out of the car with Kevin in tow; enthusiastic at the prospect of their date night continuing uninterrupted. Save maybe his equally chaotic brothers.</p>
<p>The Pines chuckled as Stan started the rattling, decrepit old car and took off down the quiet country road - only Preston remaining silent as they made their way back to the sinister estate at the top of Northwest Mountain. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Bitter Influence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>“You really think your family will be okay?” Kevin asked as he clambered into his bedroom, helping to lift Mabel in through the window frame. </p><p>“I’m pretty sure they’ll be fine.” Mabel smiled, waving it away with her usual confidence. "I mean, yeah, they are going up against some kind of weird monster that smells like the <em> worst </em> candy, but-" </p><p>"I was kinda…y'know… more freaked out by the whole… Bill stuff."</p><p>Mabel's grin started to falter. "But he couldn't come back. He was just on a phone call, right?" </p><p>"Mabel, I know you don't want to think about this stuff, okay? But I mean… This is Gravity Falls. Do you really think that Bill is completely gone? I thought he was pretty powerful." Kevin rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, his gappy toothed smile almost making Mabel's heart melt with minimal effort. "I guess I'm just scared, y'know? I  know that probably seems really weird to you, but-”</p><p> </p><p>He stopped talking as Mabel’s hand wrapped around his and, slowly, she moved in a little closer to him, a reassuring smile on her face. </p><p>"Hey, you wanna know a secret?" </p><p>"Yeah?" </p><p>“We’ve always been scared. Like, always. Dipper especially. My Grunkle Ford always told me that the real secret to getting through what we do is to pretend we know everything - and learn as we go along. The best you can do is seem as confident as you can. Y’know?”</p><p>“Is that how you do all of… this?”</p><p>Mabel giggled. “I mean, sure, same for my love life. But I’ve also never felt so certain about it before. I thought I did at the time, but this feels different.”</p><p>“You’re amazing, Mabel.”</p><p>“A-Mabel-zing.” She winked.</p><p> </p><p>There was a pause as the two sat together. Mabel figured it was Kevin reeling from her hilarious joke.</p><p> </p><p>“So do you really think they’ll be okay?”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure they’ll be fine.” Mabel smiled reassuringly - before breaking into a fervent, cheeky grin that looked particularly confident. “Besides, you really think we’re gonna sit here and do nothing?”</p><p>“What do you have in mind?”</p><p>Mabel grinned and grabbed some paper and pens. “Listen up, sweet cheeks. This is gonna blow your socks off. While those guys are tussling with Curzon, we’re going after a bigger target!”</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>Stan bit his lip as they approached the looming shape of Northwest Manor. Even with his cataracts, he could tell something was wrong. The skies were beginning to crawl into black, corkscrew clouds that curled and closed towards the mansion house, lightning crackling upon the horizon as a storm began to sweep towards the town. </p><p>It was hard to deny it felt fitting. It was hard to deny it felt intimidating. The entire family fell strangely silent as the car began ascending the hillside, the battered engine screaming in agony as it felt the bite of the gradient. </p><p>“That… does not look normal.” Preston mumbled. </p><p>“No, it’s<em> paranormal</em>,” Pacifica replied. </p><p>Dipper glanced at her knowingly and smiled, but had trouble maintaining his positivity as the temperature dropped. Despite the fact it was the height of summer, and the Oregon storms usually brought a warm closeness to the air, the atmosphere around the manor felt bitter, cold, and biting.</p><p>A spontaneous wind started to howl and scream past the vehicle’s poorly sealed windows, and the rain started to pelt against it in fat, outsized drops that made visibility close up around them, sweeping through clouds of thick, choking mist that rolled and tumbled like dry ice from Soos’s Summerween DJ sets. </p><p> </p><p>“This is freaking me out, Ford. It’s July, not freaking November. What the hell’s going on?”</p><p>“It has to be Curzon’s influence. Some sort of… bitter control. I wouldn’t be surprised if his regeneration is what brought the storm in the first place. Perhaps it’s meant to keep him covered - keep people away, explain power cuts, that sort of thing.”</p><p>“Freaking jerk.”</p><p>“Quite, Stanley.”</p><p>
  <em> FWOOM! </em>
</p><p>A strike of lightning crashed against the already precarious road, shearing off a chunk of asphalt and causing the car to swerve and skid upon the wet highway, Stan struggling to maintain control of his - admittedly dilapidated - vehicle. </p><p>“I swear, if he hits my paintwork, I’ll punch out those damned glowy blue teeth and ram them up his-”</p><p>He fell silent as the wrought iron gates creaked open with a loud groan that pierced their ears, as if they were daring the family to continue, like the arrival into a cemetery in a particularly cheesy B-movie script. </p><p>The cold flooded into the car as it finally reached the brow of the hill and relaxed - save the hideous grinding of Stan slipping the gearshift and almost deafening the kids, a belch of exhaust billowing out behind the El Diablo as they rolled up to the overtly grand doorway of the Northwest Mansion.</p><p> </p><p>Everything felt different. The manor, usually a rather grim, looming monolith of brick, windows and roofs, now seemed even more crooked and haunting, strangely distorted - as if the entire building was leaning over them, the sharp corners and peeks now pulled and stretched into steep, haunting shapes with a pale blue glow.</p><p>It was as if Curzon himself had engulfed it. Which, it had to be said, didn’t seem that far from the truth. They peered up fearfully at the rolling, twirling dark clouds above them, a vague blue glow to every smokey, curling surface that felt all too similar to that of Cankerblight and his intimidating tendrils. </p><p>Under the darkness Gravity Falls still found itself shrouded under, it was barely visible as out of the ordinary. Standing underfoot, the threat was clear. The darkness that was gathering felt all the more tangible. It was as if the last bits of joy - or opulent excess - were being ripped free from the Northwest abode.</p><p>Even as a girl who hated everything her family had stood for, Pacifica felt particularly hurt by the sight of her ancestral home, embittered even further than it already had been by its dark past. It left a pit in her stomach. </p><p>And, to her surprise, Dipper understood. He wrapped an arm around her waist and tried to act as confident as he could, though he was hardly feeling it. “I’m sure once we get rid of him, it’ll go back to normal, okay?”</p><p>“Right.” She sighed, looking up at the growing vortex of vapour and blue, ethereal glow. “And if we can’t?”</p><p>“Then at least we'll be in it together. And no secrets. Right?”</p><p>She smiled. “You’re learning fast.”</p><p>“I have to with someone like you.” He grinned.</p><p>“Damn straight, Dippin’ Dot.” She grinned wider, tapping his nose in her familiar way. </p><p> </p><p>They had almost forgotten the fact the rest of the group was examining the area. Ford was taking readings, Stan was taking photographs, while Preston…</p><p>“NoOOOoo!! My beautiful decorative topiary!” He sobbed, falling to his knees. “I had sixteen of the finest botanical artisans carve this bush into the spitting image of my face, and now look at it! It’s ruined! Destroyed!”</p><p>“Yeesh! It actually <em> does </em>look worse.” Stan mumbled as he peered at it. In the place of Preston’s face, the topiary was now a twisted grotesque - not just in personality. It burst from the floor in a grimace that felt very much like an extension of Curzon himself. </p><p>“Bizarre.” Ford added. “It’s like Curzon is spreading some sort of… weirdness. Like he’s his very own microchasm of anomaly.”</p><p>“I’ve <em> tried </em> to explain to you.” Preston replied, his patience still clearly at low ebb. “He’s like a wormhole with legs. The more you charge him, the more his… his weirdness expands. The more falls under his influence. The more spreads. He’s - he’s like a virus!”</p><p>“No virus would spread this quickly.” Ford replied sharply. “Not unless people were stupid enough to spread it. This is something completely different. More of an infestation.”</p><p>“What, like bugs?” Stan winced, adjusting his thick square-framed bifocals. “That bush doesn’t look like a freakin’ cockroach to me, Sixer.”</p><p>“Well, I-” </p><p>The bush started to groan and crack, swaying back and forth. To the Pines’ horror, it began to move - started to uproot itself with stilted, twitching movements, its leaves separating into glowing red eyes. The green topiary morphed and spasmed until it instead resembled a leafy, black demon with a mind all of its own. </p><p>They stepped back in disbelief as it stepped towards them, dripping thick, honey-like sap from its newly developed jaw, every move making noises like thrashing branches and fracturing twigs. Its voice was similar to Curzon’s own, higher pitched, with even more of a pronounced cockney accent that felt even more cruel and savage than its outsized, sneering master. </p><p>“Cor blimey, Guv’na, ‘ar’s abart ya let’s me nibble ya?”</p><p> </p><p>The family blinked as they backed towards the car, more and more of the twisted bushes, trees and hedges beginning to mutate and writhe in their plots as Curzon’s influence seemed to grow stronger and stronger upon the dark, perverted grounds that now surrounded them. </p><p>Dipper held his arm across Pacifica’s front defensively. “Uh...  how many topiaries did you guys have?”</p><p>Pacifica gulped and looked at her Dad, who could only cringe in response. </p><p>“I’m gonna take it that that means… too many.” The young investigator replied, refrained by more cracking branches and rustling leaves. </p><p>“I- I’m a fan of gardening, Pines. You can’t judge me for having beautiful grounds!”</p><p>“I wouldn’t if you did your own gardening!” Dipper shouted back. “I can’t believe McGucket even paid to keep these things pruned!”</p><p>“McGucket clearly appreciates art! And never looked at the housekeeping bills! And didn’t realise a gardener lives on site! And-”</p><p>“An’ yer gonna be plant food fer me an’ th’little uns, mistah!” Another bush cried out, this one looking like some form of bizarre scorpion creature. “I’ve got me poisonous thorns wi’yore name on ‘em, I ‘ave!”</p><p>"This is getting ridiculous." Ford spat, bitterly, pulling the two kids back with him and onto the hood of the Diablo. </p><p>"This, <em> this </em> is your threshold of ridiculous?!" the Northwest senior snapped. "This is not what I expected you people to do to my home!" </p><p>"We need to get inside that house." Dipper said, clutching Pacifica's sides. "Any ideas?" </p><p>"Sorry hon, it's a bit hard to think when you're getting chased by hedges." She gulped. </p><p>"Hold on, guys." Stan said, clambering into the car. "I've got an idea."</p><p>"Driving us to the doorway? Quick thinking, Stanley!" </p><p>"I mean, I just wanted to run the freaks over, but uh-... Sure." He mumbled to himself as he started the rattling old vehicle. </p><p>Ford's inner thoughts in response were not quite fit for print. The family - and Preston - braced themselves as the car roared back into life and screeched against the smooth concrete drive, flying into action and immediately striking one of the bush creatures dead on, with the family standing, feet squared apart, on the hood. </p><p> </p><p>"If mum and dad saw me now I'd be grounded for eternity." Dipper mumbled as they accelerated headlong into the killer garden plants. </p><p>The effect was instantaneous and pronounced. With a grating, high pitched squeal, a demented Desfontainia was splattered into the increasing mist and wind, sap splashing outwards as its leaves burst into a cloud of botanical shrapnel. </p><p>Dipper and Pacifica weren't sure how gross it was, considering the lack of authentic gore - but it wasn't particularly pleasant. That was for sure. More of the topiaries were crushed, mauled and rammed into piles of kindling as Stan continued his vehicular onslaught. </p><p>"This is just like my fourth trip to Columbia!" He cackled. "Take that, you damned cops!" </p><p>Ford glared at him in disbelief, but the old man in the Fez didn't notice. He was too busy reliving his joyful memories of law enforcement abuse - so much so, he barely noticed the fact they were now flying towards the grand doorway into the Manor at quite some pace.</p><p>It was at the last moment that he realised and jammed on the handbrake. “Hang on, kids!”</p><p>The kids screamed at the top of their lungs while Ford gripped them, holding onto the car with his magnet gun as the vehicle careened into a sideways arc, throwing up clumps of dirt as it bit through the gardens, swerving towards the doorway and slamming against the decorative plaster - which was now so distorted and bent out of shape that it already seemed beyond repair, even before the car struck.</p><p>The noise of twisting metal, cracking brickwork and smashing glass echoed across the grounds as Ford, Dipper and Pacifica were thrown into the darkened parlour of the Mansion house. The El Diablo was no more, and, to make things worse, Stan was thrown through the flimsy fabric that made up the old auto’s convertible roof, throwing him in after them. </p><p>They had barely even noticed that Preston had fallen off of the speeding vehicle before they had even slaughtered their first bush.</p>
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<a name="section0031"><h2>31. The Pits</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
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</p><p> </p><p>The once opulent, warmly lit manor had become more cold and overbearing than ever. Under Curzon’s influence, not a single wall ran straight or true - it was, from top to bottom, room to corridor, window to window, a twisted, crooked caricature that smelt herbal, cool and unpleasant - a shivering chapel to, it seemed, Curzon’s very nature.</p><p>It was like the entire place was lit in blacklight, punctuated by glowing eyes on every Bill portrait, tapestry and window, following them around the room. Those angular circuit board veins peppered every inch of the structure, humming in a deep, soft glow that pulsed and flickered.</p><p>Thin, blue streaks of glowing spittle trailed down the walls, pooling against corners and skirting boards. </p><p>It was more like a ghost train attraction at a fairground than a home. No matter how creepy said home had been in the first place. </p><p> </p><p>“Hell.” Stan mumbled. </p><p>“Sure looks like it.” Pacifica winced, looking up at the glowing, single eye of Bill Cipher, staring out from the largest tapestry in the centre of the room. “This is creepy.”</p><p>There came a harsh, echoing laugh that seemed to echo through every single room in the building, small, dust like clusters of plaster falling from the ceiling as the voice of Curzon rang out. “You think that’s bad, Northwest? You <em> must </em>follow the path and see just how bad things were.”</p><p>“I’m not listening to you! Y-you creep, I-”</p><p>“What else can you do?” Curzon replied. Before their eyes, the walls began to shift and distort. Doors disappeared, windows folded into the structure around them, thick, clotting lumps of smoke and vapour beginning to wrap around every other route. </p><p>“This is my house now, Pacifica. You’re just a visitor. And I want you all to tour the innermost depths of this place. You, your boyfriend, and the old men. You may as well find out just how dark this history goes…”</p><p>With a hideous, grinding crack, the floor gave way beneath them, shifted half a foot, then started to disassemble into a staircase, plunging deep into the ground, splitting the earth underneath the building and leading back into the strange alleyways and moist stone dungeons that they had visited only a few hours before. </p><p> </p><p>Ford stumbled and looked at Stan, who was busy trying to collect pieces of his car. “What do you think, Stanley?”</p><p>“I think if this jerk is gonna trap us with no place to go, we’d better freakin’ go. You seen my left wing mirror? Did I even have a left wing mirror?”</p><p>“What, go down there so he can<em> eat </em>us?” Pacifica pouted. “I’m not happy about this stuff, guys.”</p><p>“We were investigating, right?” Dipper shrugged. “We may as well carry on investing while we’re here.”</p><p>“If he can literally <em> move the rooms around </em> and change how this place <em> looks</em>, who says it won’t be fake?” She replied, crossing her arms with her usual cynicism and sass.</p><p>A dull cackle echoed up from deep in the corridors underground. Far from a purely mocking laughter, this was Curzon finding something genuinely funny. It went on for quite some time. “You think even <em> I </em> could come up with something as twisted as the Northwest family? Trust me, folks. What you’re about to see is very, very genuine.”</p><p>“Hey!” Paz snapped back. “We didn’t say we were going to, creep!”</p><p>“What have you got to lose?” That scraping voice retorted.</p><p>“How about our <em> lives?!</em>”</p><p>“No fun in killing you without blowing your mind first, Pacifica.” The shapeless shadow demon snorted, cruelly, the entire building still quivering with each harsh, sinister syllable. “Get down there. I know you’re like your new family. Unwilling to leave a stone unturned. After all, that’s why you came here. Isn’t it?”</p><p>The Grunkles had trouble denying the fact</p><p>that the Pines’ family flair for investigation was beginning to bubble over. They could practically hear Dipper chomping at the bit - or chewing his pen, as was more characteristic. </p><p>“Let’s do as he says.” Dipper said, flashing the tiny strip of red go-faster stripe in his vest pocket. “It must be important if he’s willing to let us live for it.”</p><p>Pacifica rolled her eyes and smirked at her boyfriend’s complete lack of subtlety. She couldn’t resist bapping him around the back of the head with her outstretched hand as they started walking down that smog-addled, moist staircase into the dank, darkening caves that lurked well below them.</p><p>They tried to ignore that constant feeling of dread, the fact the walls seemed to be breathing and pulsating around them - that the building seemed to be closing behind them, shrinking backwards into a cramped, diagonal tunnel that shrank away practically into a pindot. </p><p>There was nowhere else for them to turn. And yet, deep inside, part of Pacifica was excited. If Curzon could be trusted to tell the truth, this could be the answers she had been looking for - the solutions to the questions that had piled up for her over the past couple of days. Man, the past couple of days had felt like forever.</p><p>What had really happened to Cornelius? And Tobias Determined? What did the Northwests do to them? And… did they really build all of this machinery themselves…? It just didn’t seem natural. It didn’t seem like the Northwest’s style. Something was still missing.</p><p>She held Dipper closer as they descended the dripping, moist staircase, following the trail of those circuit board veins, those silent, vertical pupiled eyes following them with every step, every inch, every centimetre. Judging them. Probably mocking them.</p><p>At least Bill wasn’t physically there to mock them. She figured she preferred Curzon to Bill.</p><p>Great. She was<em> ranking </em>them now. </p><p> </p><p>It had barely even occurred to the Pines family that, up on the surface, Preston Northwest was stranded, surrounded by screaming, squealing Sambusceses and Salixes, their branches thrashing wildly as they circled around him, their leafy eyes glowing in deep tones of fuscia. </p><p>“What do ya think ye’re gonna do against th’likes of us, little Prestie?” </p><p>“We’re your precious bushes, aren’t we? You can’t ‘urt us!”</p><p>“We’re like the sons yer never ‘ad!”</p><p>“Yer precious likkul topiaries!”</p><p>Preston snarled. “I won’t hesitate to-”</p><p>“To wot, Prestie?”</p><p>“Scare us away like yer daughter?”</p><p>“Use a bell to fight us off?”</p><p>“Maybe he’ll lose ‘is temper and lock us in our rooms!”</p><p> </p><p>The older Northwest backed away, seething in fury as the decorative shrubbery mocked and teased him. It was perhaps by instinct that he began running away from criticism - though, if you were to ask Preston himself, he’d deny it furiously. </p><p>Over the steep, blackened gardens, through bitter rain and thick fog, the terrible, leafy flock stormed after the older man, over leaping, hissing, boiling decorative ponds and fountains, turning to geysers below his feet.</p><p>Preston had to deal not only with the group abandoning him - but the gardens, once one of his greatest prides - storming against him, fighting him, criticising him. </p><p>Perhaps it was rather fitting, in retrospect. </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0032"><h2>32. All In His Name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
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</p><p> </p><p>The glowing veins formed an unpleasant, scarily literal information highway that branched into a stiff, neon trunk that pulsed and throbbed down the narrow corridor - that now seemed to glow brighter and more furiously then ever. </p><p>The family were no less fearful of what lay beyond - but followed that glowing, humming route resolutely. For now, at least, Curzon had fallen silent, watching the family continue its jaunt down below the twisted structure above. </p><p>Pacifica huffed and rubbed her arm as the air grew cold and bitter, more of that crawling, seeping fog developing around them, rolling down the stairs like swirling clouds of herbal incense. The sort that gave you a headache if you breathed it for too long.</p><p>It made her feel like her head was swimming. It made her dizzy and disorientated, to an extent she was no longer sure if the room’s walls were flexing or her vision was failing her in the dark. It was perhaps testament to the strange effect of Curzon’s influence on the building that, when the floor turned flat and level, it caused the entire family to stumble cluelessly, fumbling for the bearings they had lost.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeesh, I feel like I’ve had one too many." Grunkle Stan mumbled as his brogues came close to slipping between his steps. "And I only had four this morning.”</p><p>“What?! You’ve been driving!”</p><p>“Pfeh. Don’t hassle me, Ford. You don’t know my damned story.”</p><p>“Of course I know your damned story, Stanley, I’ve been the focus of half of it!”</p><p>“Please. You sound just like my ex-wife.” </p><p>“I didn’t even know you <em> had </em>an ex-wife!”</p><p>“See? You don’t know my damned story-”</p><p>“How can you have managed to get married before me?!”</p><p>Stan grinned and dusted his shoulder smugly. “I’ve got a lot you don't, Sixer. A business, muscles, and a damned fine a-”</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>Crack</em></b>.</p><p>Another black, shadowy wall split open to reveal a large set of bolted, mahogany doors, in an unmistakable triangular shape, smothered in decorative ironwork, coving and large, spread hinges. The glowing lines led straight into the enormous, lurking doorway - straight into what, on the outside, felt like a grand cathedral. An enormous, underground entrance befitting Notre Dame.</p><p>It was here that Curzon’s scraping, echoing voice once again rattled across them - speaking as if he was embedded deep into every brick, every inch of mortar, every roof tile. It was as if the building itself was speaking to them. “This is it, Pacifica. The most forbidden room in your entire mansion. This is exactly what your Dad always hoped you wouldn’t see.”</p><p>“You mean the <em> skeleton </em> in the <em> vat </em> wasn’t the big secret?”</p><p>“Pacifica, please. This is<em> your </em>family we’re talking about. You think that’s the worst your kin have to offer? Don’t be naive. Go on, kiddo. Take a look.”</p><p>The giant doors opened slowly, grinding with a hideous screech upon the solid stone floor below, dragging a white trail of fine dust behind them in a generously sized arc.The walls groaned under the weight of that immense set of doors moving, as if they hadn’t been touched in quite some time. Pacifica swore she could hear Curzon grunting with exertion to open them. </p><p>Pacifica froze and looked back at the Grunkles - looked to her side to Dipper. There was a painful pause as the two considered their options, before, at last, they linked hands and walked forwards. </p><p>No secrets. Not anymore. It was just her, Dipper and the Grunkles. She found her chest tight, her palms moist with sweat, her eyes clenched shut as if she was expecting nothing but disaster to await her.</p><p>And, in a way, she was correct.</p><p> </p><p>The chamber was enormous. Practically as big as the house that sat atop of it, bedecked in enormous tapestries that hung from the ornate, arched ceiling - the entire building forming a triangular structure that followed a similar linage to the doors they had entered through.</p><p>In the centre, mounted upon the wall, was a large tapestry - shaped like an eyeball. Every of those pulsing, throbbing lines fed into it, crawling up the walls of the building and travelling into the eye of the Cathedral.</p><p>The eye of Cipher.</p><p>Right enough, the Northwests were cultists - and had willingly submitted every action the family had taken, every ill deed, every corruption, to his gaze. It was why they had hoarded his visage for so many years. </p><p>Every single one was another line of sight. Everyone was an eyeball. Just like those scattered across the Mystery Shack, when Ford had veered down such a similar path, and had nearly brought the world to such immense calamity. Every single artefact was another link, quite literally, to the mind of Bill Cipher. </p><p>Every tapestry. Every carving. Every painting. Every window. </p><p>Bill had been watching them, and judging them, since day one.</p><p>Below the gargantuan, glowing, ocular tapestry, in delicate, lovingly crafted lettering, was a banner, spelling out, clearly, what the family stood for. What they had always stood for. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>ALL IN HIS NAME.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Around the chapel’s walls, windows, arches and buttresses, there was what could only be described as a shrine. An endless collection of the family’s offerings to Bill - recording every horrendous act the family had ever carried out.</p><p>What Pacifica had always thought to be for the love of money was, it seemed, more substantially for the love of Bill Cipher. No wonder Preston had tried to make a business deal with him. His family, it seems, had taught him that Bill had been waiting for exactly that. To repay a favour that had been given for centuries. </p><p>She stared, slack jawed, up at the giant eyeball that pierced them so furiously. It turned red, and, for a moment, she was sure she heard a shrill, echoing, mocking laughter. </p><p>Even now, Bill was watching. They may have torn off his voicepiece, but he still saw everything. And he found it irresistibly<em> hilarious</em>. </p><p>Dipper let go of her hand and stared up at the grotesque shrine to the Beast with One Eye. Pacifica felt like she was having a panic attack. </p><p> </p><p>The Grunkles were silent. </p><p> </p><p>Everything from dealing with Curzon, the train crash, trapping Cornelius, The Great Flood, the future of Weirdmageddon, accidents that they had never even heard about, signing for the Northwest cover-up, business coups, general lies, corruption… </p><p>It was all displayed proudly in graphic detail. Layered in enormous tapestries, paintings, stained glass and sculpture. </p><p>It was beyond grotesque. It was beyond sickening. It was a glorification of everything the family had done for their twisted, unstable, maniacal idol. Every animal, every person, every event that had suffered on the part of the Northwest family wasn’t just displayed, it was celebrated. </p><p>Curzon’s rasping voice echoed once again around them. “You see? How’s that? Pretty big shocker, right? All of this is your family’s legacy, Pacifica. It’s all part of the plan. Hell, if you take a look over here…” </p><p> </p><p>There was a pause as, in one of the corners of the gigantic chapel, a mahogany and brass gilded door creaked open, revealing the Northwest Family tree. It was an ancient document, written up on split calf-skin vellum, browned with age and delicately painted in a fine, flawless calligraphy. </p><p>It was dated 1863. And had been written up in advance. Every generation of Northwest family was drawn and painted into place by Nathaniel Northwest, guiding the family through his demented, unhinged ‘grand plan’.</p><p>“Your entire family’s been planned, Pacifica. You included.”</p><p>Pacifica felt a shiver travel up her spine as she walked up to the huge scroll as it hung inside its mahogany frame. Right enough, Preston was marked as having a daughter to ‘any anonymous trophy wife’. Preston was marked as the predisposed son, Pacifica’s uncles - who she had never even heard of - were all marked as going across the world, married off to other business interests and families, laid out like claws spreading across the globe in a terrifying slow game. A dominating, wrenching, grasping global coup.</p><p> </p><p>Railroads, Oil, Silicon Valley, the lesser known Indian-Rubber Valley, Dippin’ Dots - the Northwest family had spread across the world like a disease, and Pacifica hadn’t even known. </p><p> </p><p>And, to her horror, at the bottom of the chart, where her generation sat, there was her. Preston Northwest. 6th Generation of the Northwest Family’s offspring.</p><p>
  <b> <em>Daughter. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <em> Marry to Fundhauser family. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She blinked. </p><p>Her father had arranged for her to marry Marius Von Fundhauser? She hadn’t even shared a greeting with the guy. Man, what would Grenda say?</p><p>D</p><p>Man, how would <em> Dipper </em>feel?</p><p>She felt his hand wrap around hers as his eyes met the same branch of the tree she had just read. It was clammy, cold - his eyes were wide and his face fixed in an expression of shock. He looked at her, looked at the vellum, then back at her, unsure how to approach his next question. </p><p>He moistened his lips and clenched his eyes shut as he finally spat it out, terrified of what the response might be. “D-d-Does… does this… change anything? Between us?”</p><p>She took a moment to answer, still shell shocked. </p><p>“No. Apart from making me more sure it’s<em> right</em>. But it’s changing a… a lot of things for me...” </p><p>“I’m surprised your Dad didn’t-”</p><p>“Try and push me and Marius together? Yeah. It’s almost as if-”</p><p>“He didn’t believe in it.” Ford interrupted, standing over them. “I might have known. I think your father might have been the only Northwest with a conscience before you.”</p><p>The kids looked up at him in disbelief. </p><p>“...Relatively speaking, of course.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. The Ciphernauts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>The voice of the House - and, thus, the voice of Cankerblight - rang out once again. </p><p>"What did I tell you? You see, Northwest, Bill is chaos-"</p><p>"Tell us something we don't know, you swine!" Ford shot back, before an inky black tendril wrapped around his mouth. </p><p>"Shut up, Sixer." Curzon hissed. </p><p>"Hey!" Stanley barked. "Only <em> I </em> get to shut the poindexter up, ya jerk!" </p><p>"As I was<em> saying</em>. Bill is chaos. This is like a…" Curzon paused as he chose his words, clicking his tongue. Wherever that tongue currently was. Probably in the wine cellar or something. "... Chapel. A Chapel dedicated to that chaos. Every horrible thing the Northwests have<em> done </em> is in the name of Bill's love of chaos. The idea was to try and summon him through tributes."</p><p>"But Dad said they'd never-" </p><p>"Bit of a white lie, kiddo. Should be used to that from your bloodline. Your Dad might be better than your ancestors, but he's still a liar."</p><p>Pacifica shrank back and furrowed her brow. </p><p>"Bill had some fun with them. Egged them on via his little telephone, found it all hilarious. Was never actually interested in joining them, though. He needed a physicist, not some jerks with a ton of money. So your family just kept on being<em> scum </em>for nothing. A tiny little ant farm for Cipher's amusement. A pathetic dust bowl of insignificant <em> dirt </em> trying to be important."</p><p>She clenched her fists and teeth as Curzon continued his little exposition to her, Dipper and the Grunkles - every word still chosen to mock and belittle her. To anger her. And he was enjoying every moment.</p><p>She could feel tears coming to her eyes again. She was just so tired. She felt nauseated, she felt disgusted, she felt ashamed… </p><p>Dipper held her hand, but she barely had the spark to hold it back. She wished the ground would swallow her up. Was this really it? This was what her family had done? </p><p> </p><p>Maybe they damned well deserved it. Maybe they should just surrender to Curzon and let him carry on. What was the point? This was how much she was worth? Some bearded psycho's plan to dance for a geometric shape in a top hat? </p><p>These people made her <em> Dad </em>seem like a good person. </p><p>
  <em> Her dad! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"And then, we came to Tobias. Poor old Tobias Determined. Darling of the press. Prized citizen of Gravity Falls. Did you ever read through those last pages of that notepad, Pacifica? You may as well, now. I have all the time in the universe. Literally."</p><p>"I'm not going to-" </p><p>Curzon glowered. He was getting increasingly impatient with his audience, captive though it was. "You are. Read it." </p><p>Pacifica looked at Dipper, who just shrugged, completely at a loss. Neither were exactly expecting their captor to force them to read.</p><p>She frowned. "But why would I-" </p><p>"You want answers, don't you?" </p><p>"Yeah, but, like, right now?!" </p><p>"Read it, Northwest, or watch me crush your new family. I'll spare <em> you </em> just for the fun of watching your <em>heart break</em>."</p><p> </p><p>The roof rumbled, adding credence to the threat. </p><p> </p><p>Pacifica squirmed. “W-why can’t you just tell m-”</p><p>“Because his own words are so, <em> so </em>much better… and I can illustrate them.” </p><p>She really, really didn’t like the sound of that, but, faced with the threat of seeing a Dipper pancake (not a pancake <em>shaped </em> like Dipper, which she had tried briefly after watching a <b> <em>7,000 Femtosecond Crafts </em></b>video online,) She saw precious little alternative avenue. </p><p>She flipped through the pages frantically, watching that rattling, rumbling ceiling with no small amount of panic. If she had to appease him, so be it. Part of her was desperate to just grab the Stanford Dynamo and throw it at him. But she knew there had to be a reason behind the Grunkles’ hesitation. Even if it was just to gather more knowledge from the back of Cankerblight’s love for himself. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>July 23rd, 1883.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Yesterday, the Pacific North-Woodsman crashed. Plummeted off of the bridge like a cannonball from a ship. The carnage is unbelievable. Many people hurt, and worse. Just as my Whistleblower informed me. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Rumours have it the driver and conductor were both blinded by a ‘flash of light’ and hit an obstruction. Sounds very strange to me. My experiences with the railroad staff have always been mixed. I don’t believe there’s a strong culture of health and safety on our trains, and the men themselves seem barely aware how to drive them. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>The fire has been burning for the entire evening. I’m afraid any witnesses I could interview have been lost to the disaster or have been signed to silence by strange men in velvet suits. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>I fear this may be what I’ve always feared. Could Nathaniel have gotten so unhinged he wanted an accident to take place? Could this be the most… grotesque action his family has taken yet?</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>I must find Cornelius Northwest. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>There is no world I’d less like to raise my son within than a world where these events could be pre-planned by such maddening evil. I sincerely hope I can bring the world to rights.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Pacifica grimaced. She was only more horrified when she looked up. In place of the tapestry, a black, curling stream of shadow slipped through the mortar of that looming, gothic roof - wrapping into a circular frame that swirled and twisted into a gigantic window, the pitch black centre slowly fuzzing into life.</p><p>Dipper tried to pull Pacifica back, but she remained steadfast, staring, open mouthed, as the giant cavern started to display imagery of time past. Curzon was illustrating, alright. There, before their eyes, was the burning wreck of the Pacific North-Woodsman. The components she recognised from the Diner were all too clear. The smoke and cinders flying up into the air, the hellish sound of screams and shouts of anguish.</p><p>She was 14 years old and watching a real life train wreck take place in real time, as if she had been stood at the perfect vantage point over a hundred years ago. The smell of burning wood, scalded metal and scorched earth filled the Cathedral with incredible strength, so much it burnt their eyes. Smoke poured in from the scene. </p><p>“How… how is he doing that?” Dipper stared in awe and horror. </p><p>“Dad was right… he is like a wormhole with legs.”</p><p>Curzon cackled as the locomotive’s boiler exploded in a burst of flame and steam, shrapnel flying through his window to the past and clattering to that solid stone floor, still smouldering at their feet, still stinking of burnt oil and disaster.  “‘Ow does it feel, Pacifica? This is your family’s legacy.”</p><p>Ford adjusted his glasses as he stared into that enormous, swirling whirlpool of sepia toned railroad calamity, his eyes no less wide and eyebrows no less peaked. He had resigned himself to having seen everything, but this? The potential. The scientific opportunity. His mind was already reeling at the concept, his fear being replaced by a deep seated excitement.</p><p>He tried to hide it, but couldn’t resist his natural, inquisitive urge to get a sample of Curzon’s ‘essence’. As… uncomfortable as that sentence made him.</p><p>“Keep reading, Pacifica. You have more to learn.”</p><p>“B-but I-”</p><p>The ceiling creaked menacingly once again. Her hands were shaking. She was no longer sure if it was fear, tension, or the trauma of seeing a train wreck. She just knew she hated every second of it. </p><p>The two Grunkles and Dipper both read over her shoulder as she flipped the page.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>July 26th 1883.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Following my publication of the Gossiper regarding the Pacific North-Woodsman railroad disaster, Cornelius Northwest - my unexpected whistleblower - has gone suspiciously quiet. I find this incredibly disconcerting, and only grow more worried to hear that Nathaniel Northwest has started selling all of his company shares.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>My interview with him was meant to disavow his fears of being caught. I spent extensive focus on him disavowing family ties, stating there was no evidence, downplaying the possibility, giving the impression of me as the major trouble causer. With my golden career of investigative reporting, it’s only right that they should suspect me instead. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>I will always protect my sources. It’s my duty.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>What I find concerning is that when I asked about the triangular, one eyed creature, Cornelius was more shocked and paranoid than ever. He told me not to ask further questions and to keep quiet about the Ciphernauts.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>What is a Ciphernaut? Clearly the organisation Nathaniel has established. It’s the only answer I could think of. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>I have a headache. My poor wife is growing increasingly worried about us both, as she, too, is feeling unwell. I keep insisting that she leave the housework to me with our child being due. However, even I am growing crippled by this sudden swathe of illness.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>The strange warp began to gyrate and rattle, swirling into another scene. This time, it was a familiar one to them - The Crawlspace. There Nathaniel was, walking, debecked in a dark hood with his prodigious beard tucked into his tunic, his eyes darting back and forth in a manner befitting of an insane, paranoid man who believed he was being spoken to by a dream demon. </p><p>Pacifica knew what was coming next. He rapped his knuckles on the diminutive wooden door that lead to Curzon’s curse stall, clutching a copy of the Gravity Falls Gossiper. Curzon answered to his regular customer and confidant erratically pointing and jabbing at the miniature portrait of Tobias Determined at the Gossiper’s header, enunciating with his arms in a manner that betrayed how… strange and <em> furious </em>he was. </p><p>The younger - and substantially less terrifying - Curzon grinned and agreed, slipping out a series of pictures and displaying them to his client eagerly, his eyes glowing a ghostly ruby red.</p><p>Nathaniel recoiled, before giving a devious grin and nodding.</p><p>The two exchanged a slippery, shook tendril of agreement, before the scene fell to black.</p><p> </p><p>“You?” Stanley stammered. “You’re the reason that Toby Determined is so…”</p><p>“Such a freak?!” Dipper interrupted his Grunkle. </p><p>Pacifica elbowed him fiercely in the ribs with a scornful look. As much as she had very little time for Toby herself, she was beginning to realise how much more there was to his story. In fact, she was beginning to feel outright sorry for him.</p><p>She was beginning to pity him more than she’d ever hated him. As grotesque, bizarre and strange a man as he was. A man with weird cat whiskers and an annoying voice and terrible fashion sense and-</p><p>“Keep reading.” Curzon hissed, now seemingly on the brink of laughter. “The tension is <em> killing </em>me.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>28th July 1883</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>My headache is getting worse. No idea why. However, my son is due within the next few days, and I’m ecstatic. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>The excitement is an immense motivator. I must finish this research. I believe I have uncovered a grand secret under Northwest manor, something that may lead to these mysterious Ciphernauts. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>I must keep digging. I only wish this migraine would leave me. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>We have decided on Terence Determined.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>The swirling vortex continued to warp and mutate before their eyes. Before long, it had turned to a portrait of Tobias himself, staring in shock and horror at his newborn child having whiskers, a protruding jaw, and a misshapen nose.</p><p>The next page was markedly different to the others in that tattered notepad. The handwriting had changed from a fine calligraphy to a messy scribble, in what looked irresistibly like wax crayons. </p><p>The tone was naturally panicked and scrawled hurriedly, crumpling the paper with numerous smears and smudges. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>15th August</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Something is happening to me</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Strange cat whiskers like my boy's keep growing on my face</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>I feel like I have grown shorter and am developing a strange odour</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Pacifica felt sick again. She grimaced as she looked at the final sentence on the bottom of the page. It had clearly been written at a different time. Clearly pieced together in a hurry. Clearly done with a man no longer carrying the same coordination or verbose manners he had when starting his memoirs. </p><p>Surrounding it were crude drawings of Bill Cipher, Curzon Cankerblight and all-seeing eyes.</p><p>It was enough to send shivers up their spines. </p><p>It was the worst, possible thing they could have hoped to read from the man. It was the sort of thing that brought perverse, undying pleasure to the sinister, twisted mind of their shadowy captor.</p><p>There it was. The last written words of Tobias Determined.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>OH MARBLES.</em> </b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Criminal Record</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>The revelation had hit everybody hard - but hit Pacifica hardest of all. She had been as guilty of bullying Toby Determined as much as anyone else. Hell, she had bullied him when he had handed over the damned story. </p><p>She had always just thought of him as a disgusting little man who scratched himself constantly, dressed as a fox and ate literal trash. She had never thought there was some kind of dark reasoning for him being the way he was. Hell, she had never thought of him having a family before. Now she was finding out his family was <em> normal </em>until Curzon had got his sticky shadow-tentacles on him. At her ancestor’s frantic, insane, overbearing demand. </p><p>How much had Toby known? He must have known… something. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he had handed it off to Pacifica. He wasn’t… a <em> completely </em>clueless goblin of a man. Right? Maybe he had read it and worked it all out for himself. Maybe part of him had always known. </p><p>All of the blood had drained from her face. Her purple eyeshadow was the only source of colour on her. She knew, no matter what, she’d have to make amends with the strange little man in the fake journalist hat. It was practically her duty to do so. Maybe she’d, like, buy him a coffee or something. Whatever.</p><p>She felt ashamed. Completely and utterly shamed. Completely and utterly <em> bitter</em>. She had always wanted answers, but had never really thought about how upsetting they could be. Now that she knew, she felt… well, sick. She had thought she had experienced hate before. That she had hated Mabel, that she had hated losing, that she hated advanced calculus and home schooling.</p><p>She was beginning to realise that she hadn’t hated any of those things. </p><p>She hated Curzon Cankerblight, she hated Bill Cipher, and, right now, she hated Nathaniel Northwest more than<em> anything</em>. </p><p>She stuffed the notepad back into her pocket and spoke up again bitterly, practically spitting every syllable, her eyes fixed to the floor. “So, you’ve proven your point, then. My family are monsters.”</p><p>“What, do you think that’s it?” the spinning, twirling portal crackled. “Please. I’ve only just gotten started…” </p><p>“You don’t have to show me.”</p><p>“Oh, let’s go down the Northwest criminal record…”</p><p>“I said <em> you don’t have to show me any more!!</em>” She shouted at the top of her lungs and stomped her foot, the firm rubber heel of her fur-lined boot thumping against the stone floor and echoing across the walls. The lack of colour in her face had quickly reverted into a furious, fuscia twinge that was completely dominated by her anger. </p><p>There was a moment of silence. Even Dipper had been a little shocked. He had seen Pacifica mad, or sulky, and had definitely seen her act sassy plenty of times but like… that angry? She wasn’t the best at maintaining her<em> temper </em>but she normally had a bit more decorum.</p><p>Tears streaked down her cheeks, pulling her mascara over her face. “You aren’t going to break me, you freak! I’ve seen enough of this crap and it’s not me!”</p><p>The house flexed and writhed like rubber as Curzon cackled in amusement. “The apple never falls far from the-”</p><p>"<em> Don't!! </em> " came the loud response. It echoed and bounced off of the walls. It scratched Pacifica's own throat. It shocked the Grunkles. Even she was pretty sure she'd never been<em> that </em>loud before. </p><p>Hell. If she had, she wasn't sure how her family would have reacted. The fact she was doing it - in her own home, sort of - was actually somewhat liberating. To Curzon, it was mostly amusing, but Pacifica felt tough. She felt proud. She hadn't felt quite that good since she'd… </p><p>Well, since the last time she'd confronted the Crawlspace's owning miscreant.</p><p>Dipper gripped her hand and tried to give his best reassuring smile, hopeful that he'd be able to help disarm the fizzling fuse that Pacifica was clearly attached to. He'd seen her in some tight spots but this was getting a little bit beyond. He was beginning to feel more scared of what <em> Pacifica </em>could do as opposed to what Curzon could pull off. </p><p>Curzon was relatively straightforward. A horrible thing that had helped to twist and manipulate the town's richest family for a massive business deal. A shadowy figure that had pretended to be a friend, but had always had the same level of arrogant disdain for those he made deals with. </p><p>Heh, that actually reminded him<em> of </em> Preston during the whole McBurger / OregCo thing.</p><p>In fact he was beginning to feel Curzon was pretty close to the man he was so mocking towards. Maybe they were pretty similar. Save, y'know, the hundreds of legs, several eyes, being a weird anomaly that could see through time… and the ability to seep his being into every little inch of the towering, Gothic structure on the Northwestern hilltop of Gravity Falls. </p><p>Preston had<em> kind of </em>done that. But this was<em> literal.  </em></p><p>He at least took solace in the fact that there wasn't much Curzon could do that was worse than unveiling this hideous, tangled web of Nathaniel Northwest's preplanning, Bill Cipher's sick love of seeing people grow depraved, the fate of Tobias Determined… </p><p>“But Pacifica. What about your dear friend, your surrogate mother, your guardian, your mentor…”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh no.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dipper felt like pulling her back instinctively, but it was too late. Susan Wentworth appeared on the screen, as she currently was - at home, dressing her cats in a collection of novelty jumpers that reminded the entire family irresistibly of Mabel - who they were all increasingly glad was currently with her new boyfriend in the relative safety of the Corduroy household. </p><p>“Don’t you DARE lay a hand on Susan!” Pacifica shouted, her hands clenching into fists. There were few people in the world that Pacifica was heavily defensive of. Mabel, Dipper, the Grunkles, Wendy…</p><p>But Susan? Susan was the woman who had given Pacifica her first taste of living happily. Given Pacifica a job regardless of her smeared name. Given Pacifica a chance. </p><p>“You think I haven’t already?” Curzon snarled, thin trickles of thick, blue acidic mucus dripping from the walls in fizzling, bubbling anger as - to his surprise - Pacifica stayed resolute and sharp. “Do you really think your family stopped with the likes of the Determineds? Didn’t she tell you, the other day… what was it?”</p><p>The giant window curled and flickered, vapour and splattering shadow coating the area surrounding it in thin, fennel scented streaks of liquid. Before them, the image curled into the familiar sight of the kitchen entrance to Greasy’s Diner. There was Pacifica. There was Susan. There was the generator - the exact same events taking place as had done for Pacifica herself only a few days before. </p><p>DId this mean Curzon had been watching her? Or was he just able to conjure up windows to anywhere? Like, going from the train wreck, this obviously wasn’t just a freaking recording. Susan’s words seemed to echo and reverb from the twirling, smokey window into the past as Pacifica saw herself. And quietly admired how she looked in her uniform. Damn, no wonder Dipper thought it was cute. It was cute! Hell, sh- <em> Focus, Pacifica.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> This was my grandpa’s, Pacifica!  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This was my grandpa’s! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This was my grandpa’s… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“You think it’s a <em> coincidence </em>that Susan likes fixing things?” </p><p>Curzon’s voice scraped from the walls around them, like fingernails dragging down a chalkboard. He was notably stilted; notably shaken, noticeably exerted. The portal was beginning to let out some sort of strange, continuous humming. It didn’t sound… right. </p><p>“You think it’s a <em> coincidence </em> that her grandpa built a generator?” He continued, his mocking growing more angry and frantic. “You think it’s a <em> coincidence </em>that the Wentworths seem to have had a constant love of mechanics and machinery?”</p><p>Ford and Stan instinctively pulled the kids back from the increasingly fuzzy picture before them. They swore that Curzon was almost getting out of breath. Like there was a strange, hollow panting in his tone, an echoing, pulsing breath that matched the whirring and almost digital buzzing of the vortexian window he was using to illustrate his points. </p><p>Pacifica resisted, eager to continue confronting the horrible creature - regardless of the perceived instability of the wormhole that screamed and swirled in front of them.</p><p>“What the hell are you saying?!”</p><p>The answer started with a grating, cruel laugh that croaked, rattled and rolled across the room in a harrowing, shallow roar that caused the portal to shift and roll in its place. “I’m saying that Great-Granpappy Wentworth built the machine that Cornelius Northwest<b><em>died in!</em> </b>”</p><p>Now the entire group was agape. Curzon continued laughing relentlessly. Pacifica’s heart was now in her throat. She was freaking out more than ever. No way. It couldn’t be true. She was being toyed with. He… he was making stuff up. Right?</p><p>She stared, almost vacant, as a man - with very substantial sideburns - appeared, his eyes blank, his jaw slack, his hands hard at work, building much the same monstrosity of brass, mahogany and iron they had seen in the laboratory. </p><p>He was a portly, albeit muscular figure, in a pink checked shirt with cotton overalls, big boots and leather gloves covering his extremities as he riveted the enormous machine with stout, heavy thumps of a sledgehammer. His eyes glowed a bright white, and, behind him, Nathaniel Northwest would shove him forward, hit him with his cane or jeer and should into the larger man’s ears with unadulterated enjoyment.</p><p>He had more than a passing resemblance to his eccentric, diner-owning descendent. Enough to make Pacifica feel even more stressed and nauseous at the sight of the scene playing out before them. It was clear that the engineer was under some sort of control or suggestible state. </p><p> It was, of course, not only Pacifica with close connections to the woman. Grunkle Stan squirmed uncomfortably.</p><p>“M..man, I- I gotta keep that quiet on our next night together.”</p><p>Ford blinked and stared at Stan, eyes wide. “You’re <em> dating </em>Susan Wentworth?!”</p><p>“Hey, hey, it’s not datin’, it’s just uh- we’re going steady, y’know? She’s kinda a weirdo but-”</p><p>“She’s a complete nutca-”</p><p><em> Ahm. </em>Stan interrupted him and motioned at the distraught Northwest heir who stood nearby. </p><p>It forced Ford into silence. He wordlessly walked over to the pair and held a hand on her shoulder, Stan following much the same movements and standing with the younger pair, trying their damndest to act as some sort of moral support buffer, or… <em> something</em>.</p><p>The truth was, if Stan was clueless, Ford was<em> beyond </em>clueless in this situation. They were both as equally dumbfounded as the kids they were trying to reassure. </p><p> </p><p>“This is crazy.” Dipper whispered quietly. He tried to hold Pacifica’s hand tighter but their hands were both so sweaty and clammy it was no longer so easy to keep a grip. She sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, before gazing straight at her boyfriend. </p><p>Dipper felt like seeing his girlfriend cry was just about the most heartbreaking thing he could imagine. He tried to wrap his arms around her, but she was as stiff as a board. </p><p>“Paz?”</p><p>“Not now.” she replied, hoarsely. “Please.”</p><p>He went quiet and let go. “I’m sorry-”</p><p>“This isn’t your fault, Dipper.” She replied quietly.</p><p>“We <em> can </em>stop it any time you want.” He said, motioning to the pocket in his vest, seemingly incredulous at the fact Pacifica was still taking the continuous abuse and unpleasant revelations from the wormhole ahead of them. “You don’t have to-” </p><p>At this, she became more firm - more determined. Strict, and authoritative, regardless of her tears, regardless of how she felt - regardless of how much her throat hurt or her hands quaked. “Yes. I do.” </p><p> </p><p>She narrowed her eyes at the sight of Nathaniel Northwest, prodding, bullying and laughing at the expense of the possessed engineer as he worked silently. She was angered by it most of all. A Northwest bullying eccentric, amiable misfits that were smarter, braver or more talented than they were? </p><p>She had made that mistake with Mabel and Dipper and had regretted it every day. In another world, she could have been in Nathaniel's place. She could have had Dipper and Mabel locked into machines or cursed or…</p><p>She gritted her teeth, and looked down at the floor at the pieces of shrapnel that had blown through Curzon's wormhole from the incendiary train wreck they had just witnessed. It was a tangle of iron, bolts and screws, pieces of piston and wood shards - all still smouldering but significantly cooler to the touch. </p><p>Truth be told, she wasn't really sure what justification she had. She just felt angry. In her mind, it was, if nothing else, a decent way to get that rage out of her system. </p><p>Wordlessly, she picked up one of the bolts and tossed it between her hands, fixing her eyes on the back of Nathaniel's head with a very slight smirk. </p><p>"What are you doing?" Dipper mumbled.</p><p>"Heh. Blondie has the right idea." Stan grinned, grabbing a chunk of metal. "On three, Pacifica!" </p><p>"You've got it, Stan." she replied with a cheeky smile - creating, truth be told, a very strange contrast with her tear-streaked makeup and sniffly nose. </p><p>"3, 2, 1-"</p><p>"Wait!" Stanford barked. "That's a terrible idea! You don't-" </p><p>It was too late. The pieces of iron flew from the best throwing hands of the two rambunctious souls and through the echoing, swirling, flickering window into the past. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Split</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>It was of little surprise to Stanley and Pacifica  that they hit Nathaniel Northwest square on his slightly balding bonce - but they were far from prepared for what the process of their ammunition<em> reaching </em>him had sparked off inside their intimidating, shadowy host. The moment those little burnished bolts had hit the ectoplasmic substance that acted as the barrier between the past and their current reality, the reaction was fearful.</p><p>Indeed - the roar of visceral, furious pain from Curzon's shadowy being was enough to distract the two from the fact they managed to cause Nathaniel Northwest to squeal like a perturbed piglet. </p><p>Just as the Victorian magnate turned to find the source of the metal that had hit his bald spot, the image of him disappeared.  The vortex flickered. The building began to rumble. Curzon howled, screamed and hissed as his enormous, shadowy frame whirled faster and faster. Curzon Cankerblight was becoming more unstable than ever. And not not just in terms of personality. </p><p>The cacophony was immense. </p><p>The roaring from Curzon Cankerblight was sufficient to momentarily deafen the group that stood before him, and sufficient to crack the ornate stained glass that was on display in the enormous cathedral. The building's arched shape, curved walls and decorative brickwork caused the sound to reverberate and rumble, the entire subterranean lair beginning to feel increasingly suspect. For Grunkle Ford, it was no longer a concern of structural integrity - it was one of dimensional integrity. </p><p>He grabbed Stanley by the lapels and shook him furiously, his understandable - and perhaps natural - paranoia for any sort of portal rising to the surface as the vortex screamed and roared behind them. "You fool! Don't you know the first rule of interdimensional warp space?! Everything that travels through that damned thing can cause a rift!" </p><p>"Oh, well excuse me! Let me just check my damned International-Whatever-You-Said pamphlet, you old crock!" Stan snapped back with feeling, raising one of his meaty fists. </p><p>"We're the same Age, Stanley, you misera-" </p><p>
  <b> <em>Fzzt!</em> </b>
</p><p>"Uh. Guys?" </p><p>Dipper and Pacifica both began backing away once again as, before them, image after image flickered in that roaring, rattling window through time and space. Some understandable, and recognisable, many bizarre and confusing. It was like a pirate television station into the past, present and future - intermingled with strange, rattling images of pure, unadulterated horror and eldritch abomination. Creatures that evoked a marked fight or flight response. Images of the shapeshifter, the lumberjack ghost, demons and minions of Weirdmageddon flying together and blurring, all storming towards them with fearful speed and aggression. </p><p>They flew past like flip book pages, an endless flickering void of nightmare, with Cankerblight powerless to stop it, the increasing instability of his form causing him immense pain and fatigue. He howled, roared and spat in anger, blue phlegm flooding from his shadowy tendrils in thin streaks, spattering against brick, stone and mortar like aquamarine paint being poured into a running blender. </p><p>The speed and fluctuation of horror and aggression was sufficient to cause motion sickness, to cause an emotional fatigue that only made Pacifica and Dipper feel more and more ill. It was all too much. It was horrendously immersive, much like watching the train wreck. No matter what they tried, they just couldn’t wrench their eyes from the horrendous flood of graphic scenes and horror. </p><p>"He's going crazy!" Pacifica shouted over the catastrophic noise that filled the room. </p><p>"He's going <em> critical!" </em> Ford bellowed back. "I can't advise us on anything that's going to happen now, this is new territory!" </p><p>Stan didn’t acknowledge their panicked shouts, largely as his hearing aid had shorted - and, instead, focused on stepping in front of them with his arms outstretched, pushing his ever-precious family backwards as he attempted to cover them behind his naturally broad frame.</p><p>Of course, it was futile - and if Stan had thought about it for only a few moments longer, he’d have probably thrown himself behind the nearest solid item of furniture.</p><p>Bolts of electricity and flame, sparks and particles flew from the core of the portal that Curzon had created, which was now whirring so quickly it was no longer clear what was beyond. It had become nothing more than an overwhelming flow of colours and geometric fragments, some in hues that no human had seen before, threatening to burn the eyes out of their mortal sockets should it continue. Finally, it began - the portal began to tear from its kaleidoscopic mass of imagery and, instead, ripped into darkness. A black so dark, so lacking in warmth or colour, it seemed to absorb all light. </p><p>There was a silence as the portal stopped buzzing and whirling, slowing down as its now - seemingly mortally damaged state - prevented it from continuing any further. With a final, cataclysmic scream, the frame of dark, inky tendrils flew outwards as Curzon tried to stabilise himself, latching onto the bricks and mortar as the forces within his vortex slowed to a steady, revolving crawl - bursts of thick, fennel scented smoke following like a burnt out television. Not a plasma screen, more like one of those crappy old CRTs you’d pick up at Walmart for fifty bucks.</p><p>Now, there was no doubt - they could hear Cankerblight panting. They had hurt him. They had exerted him to his limits, even through this bizarre, overpowered form of his. The problem is they were no longer sure if their plan would even<em> work </em>following this bizarre scene. </p><p> </p><p>Dipper briefly considered throwing the dynamo, but Stanford stopped him with a solemn look in his eyes. “Science.” He whispered. “We’ll beat him when we’ve learnt all we can.”</p><p>Pacifica whipped her head around. “Guys, you can’t be seriou-”</p><p>She didn’t have time to finish her sentence. She was, instead, interrupted by their shadowy nemesis.</p><p>Curzon's scraping, whistling tones had been replaced by a distorted, pitching voice that juddered and wobbled around them, through one ear before moving to the next. His hold on the Manor seemed solid, but his presence before them was remarkably fragile. Perhaps even <em> fearful </em>. </p><p>"YoU dOn'ttt KnOwwe WhAT you haVE jUSt dOonE!" He said, his rumbling, reverberating voice causing loose mortar to crumble from above. "YoU GaVe HiM aAA DoOrWAy!" </p><p>“Him?” Dipper blinked. “You don’t mean-”</p><p>“Him.” Ford grimaced. <em>"Now </em>we’ve done it. We’ve given him an exit.”</p><p>“No way.” Pacifica gulped. </p><p>“Man. Ford, you gotta write up that international-dimension book thing.”</p><p>Ford glared at his brother, about to run his mouth about him being an ignorant jackass, and a terrible influence on the kids - but he was swiftly interrupted as<b><em>he </em></b>arrived. </p><p> </p><p>A single, glowing eye appeared in the dark hollow that now sat, motionless, in front of them, backed by an echoing, shrill chuckle. The glint of a well-lacquered cane was unmistakable. The group froze as their most terrifying foe arrived, in the flesh. Or brick. Gold? Whatever the damned thing was made of.  </p><p>"BOY, THAT'S CONVENIENT, HUH? I FIGURED THE LLAMA WOULD LOSE HER TEMPER. HOW’S IT FEEL TO HAVE CAUSED A TEAR IN SPACE-TIME, KID?”</p><p>For the first time in nearly a year, they were no longer dealing will Bill Cipher through voice. They were seeing him. There he was, typically well dressed, typically intimidating - and completely outsized. A giant, limbo-bound demon, arms as black and flexible as liquorice, his slim top hat towering, his eyes glowering, his corners razor sharp and his sheer lack of empathy every bit as intimidating as the day they had rid themselves of him. </p><p>And, of course, typical of Bill, he didn’t take a single bit of it seriously. </p><p>“MAN, SURE IS GOOD TO SPEAK FACE TO FACE AGAIN. YOU JUST DON’T GET THE SAME FEELING OF TERROR FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF A CORPSE PHONE!” He cackled and leant on his stick as he stood before them in the giant portal.</p><p>Oh yes, this time there was no boundary. Any that stood there was thinner than crepe paper.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Harmless Glade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p>
<p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p>
<p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The echoing roars from Northwest Manor were substantially quieter in the pine tree forests of Oregon. To Kevin and Mabel, it was blending into little more than the dull roar of the nearby highway, dampened down in their own enthusiastic conversations about what they had seen in the manor - and, to Kevin’s greater interest, what Mabel did when she wasn’t in Oregon. </p>
<p>After all, Kevin had never been to California. His family had many rules in place for survival - that included a travel ban on California, Washington and Florida. In Manly Dan’s eyes, those places were only good if there was a shortage of fake tan, toupees, fancy vegetables or speedos. </p>
<p>No, the Corduroy’s plans were all based in Oregon. If anybody from the family dared cross those respective state borders, Dan would have them straight off to lumber camp. Or summer school. Or the incredibly bizarre amalgamation his Aunty Lucy had set up in the Cascade Mountain Range.</p>
<p>As a result, it was only natural that Kevin viewed these places as unusual or exotic. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So when my teacher told me to stop grappling the lunch lady's ankles, I had to do another six weeks of detention. So, I tried to grapple my way out of the detention hall, then they put me in a class full of awesome kids who knew how to start fires…”</p>
<p>“Is it really that crazy in the city?”</p>
<p>“Aw man, you guys need to visit us sometime! I could take you for milkshakes, we could watch traffic accidents, we can eat at fast food chains…”</p>
<p>“I’d like that.” He replied, with only a very slight twinge of uncertainty. “So… where are we going?”</p>
<p>“We’re gonna bust that Triangle’s plans once and for all!” Mabel grinned as she vaulted herself over a fallen tree. “He’s in for it now!”</p>
<p>“I mean, isn’t he kinda trapped already?” Kevin asked, following her close behind, his favourite axe balanced on one of his shoulders. “I dunno how we can make that any worse for the guy.”</p>
<p>“Kevin, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that heck hath no fury like a woman scorned!”</p>
<p>“Meaning what?”</p>
<p>“Meaning I wanna beat the guy up <em> somehow </em>.”</p>
<p>Kevin paused and smirked at the idea of the girl with a collection of pig themed jumpers beating anyone up; but she was more than convincing. In fact, he was kind of excited to see her aptitude for a good punch up, even if he had no idea how it would manifest. “So how’s that gonna work?”</p>
<p>“Well, first, we gotta find him.” Mabel said, though she was substantially less enthusiastic about her solution. “And I know a guy who's an expert on the forest. They’re a bit weird, but uh… they’re alright. I guess.”</p>
<p>“Got a history?”</p>
<p>“They’re kinda, sort of… sort of an ex. But don’t freak out, okay? It lasted for like, a few hours.”</p>
<p>“They were that bad? What did they do?”</p>
<p>“Tried to marry me.”</p>
<p>“Eesh.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Wasn’t great. Another amazing story in the life of Mabel!” She grinned, flapping her sweater sleeves. “Hope you know what you’re getting into, sugar!”</p>
<p>“Sugar?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, ‘cos I’m addicted to you and go all hyper whenever we’re together!”</p>
<p>“You aren’t hyper usually?”</p>
<p>“You don’t know my story, sweetcheeks.” She replied, giving him a cheeky bump on the hip. “Now, just play this cool, okay? Don’t freak out.”</p>
<p>Kevin blushed and smiled, wrapping his fingers around Mabel’s hand. “Where do you get these nicknames?”</p>
<p>She thought for a moment, tapping her chin in her usual exaggerated - and overenthusiastic - manner. “Mostly Grunkle Stan’s old-timey movies. He has a thing for romantic movies. But that’s a secret.”</p>
<p>“Your family is full of surprises.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kevin was not prepared for quite the level of surprise Mabel was now presenting towards him. They wandered into an open forest glade, a peaceful, quiet area, surrounded by toadstools - and, before them, there stood a small writing desk, bedecked in poorly written paperwork.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Man.” Came a voice. “Never let people say Monarchical rule isn’t hard. Jeez, who knew Gnomes opened so many supermarkets?”</p>
<p>“Hey, Jeff.”</p>
<p>“Mabel? Hey! You come to reconsider the throne, or-”</p>
<p>“This is my boyfriend, Kevin.”</p>
<p>Jeff’s face furrowed before he tried to put on his most nonchalant expression. “Oh. Hey there, sport. Nice tooth gap. What do you both want? It’s a long way from the nearest log cabin, or wherever you guys go at night.”</p>
<p>Kevin blinked, half offended by the remark over his tooth gap, half confused to all hell by the appearance of a little man with a beard. It didn’t help that he was still remarkably confused by the idea of being Mabel’s Boyfriend. That was pretty big, right? Like, a pretty big step. He liked it, but-</p>
<p>Geez. Mabel Pines is<em> his girlfriend.  </em></p>
<p>“So, I need someone who’s an expert in the forest.” Mabel smiled, twisting her foot on the floor sheepishly. “And we all know there’s nobody with more expertise than the king of the gnomes, right?”</p>
<p>Jeff rolled his eyes. “You won’t flatter me into helping you, heartbreaker. We’ve been through this. We had a truce to break up that gas station and that’s it.”</p>
<p>“I’ll give you a sticker.” Mabel replied, rifling through her pockets. </p>
<p>“A sticker? Pul-eeze. What do you think I am? I’m not easily bought, lady.”</p>
<p>“Yeah? What if it was… this one?” came the smug reply. </p>
<p>Mabel pulled out a glittery, round sticker featuring a very excited cat’s face, with the word ‘Meow-vellous’ written underneath. </p>
<p>It was an impressive offering. </p>
<p>Not even the world’s most discerning - perhaps even<em> only </em>remotely discerning - gnome could refuse such a glorious, complimentary mark upon his person. No, the deal was set in stone. Jeff agreed, and did so with a marked enthusiasm. </p>
<p>Thankfully - and somewhat remarkably, considering his nature of being a gnome, he was at least competent enough to remember the location of Bill’s final physical presence in the world - though it still took him a good hour to find it, after a stop off at the local gnomish pigeon meat restaurant. </p>
<p>It turned out that the statue of Bill had become a centrepiece for a dive bar, inhabited by a gang of Nymphs - floating, flirtatious and strangely muscular little things that wore band T-shirts and played loud, obnoxious pop music constantly. Considering their dive bar was actually a stolen crate of tacky shabby chic homeware and they were drinking cups of spring water, they were a pretty bewildering sight. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ugh. These guys weren't here last time." Jeff sighed. "Nymphs are the worst. <em> Obsessed </em> with humans, trying to emulate them, trying to make their own society, worshipping musicians…"</p>
<p>"Aw, they're kinda cute! Look at those tiny cups!" Mabel beamed. </p>
<p>"Don't be fooled." Jeff replied. "They're like groupies. They fall in love and move on quicker than the population of Snadgers. They have no principles, no rules, no king! They just chase that thrill of being noticed."</p>
<p>"Sounds like they need female empowerment." Mabel replied. "Poor things."</p>
<p>"Sure, sure, whatever." Jeff snapped, rolling his eyes. "But that takes<em> time </em>and you wanted this done<em> quickly</em>. You got a couple of pennies or something?" </p>
<p>The two kids rifled through their pockets and assembled a small collection of quarters, pennies and dimes. They were understandably troubled by the request. It seemed particularly vague. </p>
<p>"What for?" Kevin asked as he handed his spare change over. </p>
<p>"Watch." Jeff grinned, tossing them over the crate. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Nymphs continued their idle chatter - then froze. "Ohmygosh. Was that human money?" </p>
<p>"That was human money!" </p>
<p>"Human money?! I'm going to buy an overpriced coffee!" </p>
<p>"I'm going to buy a decorative fruit bowl I’ll never put fruit in!”</p>
<p>"I want to put signs promoting alcoholism everywhere!" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Wow. They're awful." Kevin grimaced, as the group of Nymphs leapt out of their crate in a chaotic gaggle, fighting for the pieces of nickel and copper as if it was - well, actually enough to buy any of the items they listed. </p>
<p>“That’s nymphs for ya. So what are you planning to do with the triangle guy?” </p>
<p>“We’re gonna take him and have some fun.” Mabel replied with a devilish grin, rubbing her hands together. “Got your axe, Kevin?”</p>
<p>“You bet, sweetcheeks.”</p>
<p>The two shared a lovestruck gaze, while Jeff pretended to vomit.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. Geometry War</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p>
<p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p>
<p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You all need to get out of here. Now.” Ford said, firmly, rifling through his trenchcoat for any kind of weaponry. </p>
<p>“Not a chance.” Stan replied. “We’re in this damned well together.”</p>
<p>The old men were a lot more experienced in the act of swallowing the crazy, out of this world nonsense they had seen over the years. For Dipper Pines, who still suffered more than a little bit of anxiety about what had happened last summer, it was much more difficult. This was the reason he barely ever slept. This was the reason he remembered all manner of graphic monstrosities and his family almost falling victim to the hell of Weirdmageddon. </p>
<p>It was his turn to freeze, to feel like crying, to go as stiff as a board. The other stuff, he could more or less handle. Coming face to face with the biggest known threat to his world? That was more than sufficient to raise nothing more than visceral, pure fear in his veins. He felt freezing cold and feverishly warm at once. His organs were churning. His head was pounding.</p>
<p>Was… was he having a panic attack?!</p>
<p>
  <em> I’mgonnathrowupI’mgonnathrowupohnononothiscan’tbehappening- </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was the sort of thing that really, really made him wish he had Mabel alongside him, no matter how much he adored Pacifica.</p>
<p>It was just what he was used to. What he expected. The person who had fought with him against Bill the first time. Pacifica was tough, but there was nobody he trusted more than his twin sister.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Y’KNOW GUYS, I WAS REALLY WORRIED YOU’D FORGOTTEN ME, BUT IT’S NICE TO KNOW YOU’RE EVERY BIT AS TERRIFIED AS THE DAY I RUINED YOUR LIVES. HOW’S THE TRAUMA, DIPPER?”</p>
<p>This was it. He was shaking. He was frozen in pure terror. It was the thing he had dreaded from day one, and this time, he was in a stone Cathedral with Bill’s face everywhere. He was immediately desperate to jump into protecting his girlfriend, doing everything he could to keep Pacifica safe, but with what?!</p>
<p>A stupid dynamo that’s meant to make Curzon kick the bucket? Some wreckage from a train crash that was allowed to happen in Bill Cipher’s name?! This entire building was a tribute to him, it was all a huge ego trip for the universe’s most bizarre malevolent force. It was, above all else, a terrifying, twisted message of just how much Bill had corrupted the world around him.</p>
<p>And all for his own entertainment. Nothing else. He had done the entire thing, twisted the Northwests and tortured the town for fun. It was a joke.</p>
<p>
  <em> It was all a joke.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> All of this was funny to him.  </em>
</p>
<p>Dipper Pines was an anxiety-ridden, nervous, partially traumatised wreck. But as those thoughts rumbled around in his head, most of all, he was angry. By and large, it was Bill Cipher who had caused the Northwest Family to become monsters. They were <em> corrupt </em> before, but it was Bill who had made them insanely<em> awful. </em> </p>
<p>Ergo, it was Bill who had made Pacifica’s life so hellish for so long.</p>
<p>It was Bill who had made Pacifica cry tonight. </p>
<p>It was Bill who had brought them all to the brink last summer. </p>
<p>And now, it was Bill who was making Dipper angry enough to do something that he really wasn’t used to doing. Forget about his stress and anxiety, swallow it down, and try to talk the talk - even if he had literally no confidence in his words.</p>
<p>“I’m not afraid of you, Bill! He shouted. “You’re a joke! We beat you before and-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bill’s eyes flashed red briefly at the insult. Not that he was particularly difficult to aggravate. Of course, his natural superiority and natural grandiose self-impressions ruled over any natural weakness Bill might suffer. Nothing was going to ruin his fun or natural love of being <em> better </em> than them.</p>
<p>Hell, they were in a literal cathedral that proved his superiority. A bona-fide temple to his own brand of sin and misanthropy. Bill Cipher was more of the sort to find challenges against him amusing. It came as little shock to see him so unaffected by Dipper’s sudden burst of authority. </p>
<p>“SURE, PINE TREE. IN CASE YOU HAVEN’T NOTICED, ALL OF THIS IS PROOF ENOUGH THAT I CAN’T LOSE. YOU’RE ALL NOTHING MORE THAN TINY, FLESHY LITTLE BUGS FOR ME TO TOY WITH!”</p>
<p>Ford raised his fist and snarled. “You won’t toy with us, you little-”</p>
<p>“LITTLE? LITTLE?! BOY, FORD, THAT’S A GOOD POINT! GIVE ME A MOMENT, HERE!”</p>
<p>It was here that Bill used one of his favourite party tricks. With his eyelid - to be fair, the closest he had to eyebrows - lowered, he focused his energies on growing as intimidating and outsized as his personality implied. </p>
<p>Before their eyes, he became ten, twenty, thirty times the size he had first appeared. He towered over them through that thin membrane of a barrier, his hands now large enough to crush the four of them at once, his shrill voice now loud enough to cause mortar to crumble above them.</p>
<p>Ford and Stanley both snapped back to reality for a moment and wondered just how much punishment the 150+ year old subterranean chapel could take. While they had no wishes to die tonight at the hands of Cipher, they were also increasingly conscious of the prospect they’d be crushed by the manor falling on top of them. </p>
<p>Especially considering they were visitors.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“HOW’S THIS, KIDS? FITTING OF A GRAND RETURN?! I’D THINK SO! THIS IS IT! WEIRDMAGEDDON TWO! AND ALL I’VE GOTTA DO IS SPLIT THROUGH MY SHADOWY CENTIPEDE FRIEND!”</p>
<p>“I thought you two worked together?!” Pacifica stammered, hiding behind Ford with Dipper firmly gripped in his arms. </p>
<p>“Bill doesn’t do alliances.” Ford growled. “He’d rip open his own mother if it meant a reward.”</p>
<p>“IT’S ALL FOR THE GREATER GOOD, ISN’T IT CURZY?!”</p>
<p>“YoU tRaItOr!” Curzon screamed. “YoU CaN’t Do ThIs tOoo Me! I hElpEd YoOouU!”</p>
<p>“SURE, BUT NOW I’M AFTER A <em> NEW </em>DEAL, IT’S NOTHING PERSONAL.”</p>
<p>One of his enormous, jet black, rubbery hands grabbed the edge of the portal as he began to try and force his way through the stretchy, elasticated membrane ahead of him.</p>
<p>The scream from Curzon was terrifying. It was eldritch in nature, a cross between the scream of an elephant being slaughtered, the roar of a jet engine and a broken fax machine. </p>
<p>The family almost felt sorry for him. It sounded pretty damned painful. </p>
<p>“JUST KIDDING. IT’S ENTIRELY PERSONAL. I NEVER LIKED YOU OR YOUR DUMB ACCENT, CURZON. YOU’RE WORTHLESS.”</p>
<p>“Get back, kids. Get back.” Stanley murmured as Bill began dragging himself out of the darkness. “This is- this is gonna get hairy.”</p>
<p>“What are we going to do?!” Pacifica tried to speak as quietly as she could, but it was proving increasingly difficult in the situation at hand. It sort of came out a lot more gibbered and frantic than she had hoped for.</p>
<p>“Throw the dynamo!” Ford barked. “To hell with scientifi-”<b></b></p>
<p>
  <b><em>CRAK!</em> </b>
</p>
<p>“HEY- WHAT THE-”<b></b></p>
<p>
  <b><em>THWACK!</em> </b>
</p>
<p>“WHAT IS THIS?!”<b></b></p>
<p>
  <b><em>CRACK!</em> </b>
</p>
<p><b></b>“M- MY ARMS?! WHAT HAVE YOU MISERABLE FLESHBAGS DONE TO MY-”</p>
<p>The family stared, lost for words as, before their eyes, Bill’s arms began to fracture and crumble. To his horror, his two foremost limbs suddenly cracked and broke off of his steep-sided body, flying outwards with thin streaks of thick, black liquid and crumbling shrapnel flowing from behind.</p>
<p>Bill screamed - not roared, not bellowed, but<em> screamed </em>in his shrill, furious manner as his two upper limbs flew from him. He was genuinely shocked. Perhaps even, deep in his psychopathic, twisted mind, he was<em> scared</em>. </p>
<p>He had never had his arms ripped off before, especially not while trapped in a transdimensional limbo he was so close to escaping from. He fell, rather comically, onto his back - and uselessly kicked and flailed in a desperation to upright himself.</p>
<p>The disembodied limbs fell to the floor with hollow thuds, and began to break up before their eyes - crumbling to dust as if they were being struck with an invisible sledgehammer.</p>
<p>“I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE HELL YOU’VE JUST DONE, PINES, BUT IF YOU THINK IT’S GOING TO STOP ME, YOU’VE ANOTHER THING COMING! YOU NEED TO ACCEPT THAT YOUR WORLD IS MINE!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The family was baffled by the sudden dismemberment of Bill Cipher, to say the least - but none were more bewildered than Dipper. He was still beyond shaken up, and was not quite prepared by the sight of Bill’s limbs flying off of him like paper aeroplanes that spewed tar and crude oil behind them. </p>
<p>His self doubt had never plagued him more. He wasn’t an action hero. He couldn’t do this.</p>
<p>He knew he had to do something. Everything in his brain was shouting at him to snap out of it and take action. Everything was telling him to move. Everything was telling him to get to it. Every sinus and subconscious thought was screaming at him.</p>
<p>But he couldn’t. </p>
<p>He was out of it.</p>
<p>“Dipper, you need to get that dynamo out there!” Pacifica shouted.</p>
<p>He looked at her fearfully, his eyes wide, his pupils like pindots. He desperately wanted to respond. But he was scared. He felt useless. He couldn’t beat Bill. He’d failed before. Who was he even kidding? What if something else happened?!</p>
<p>He thought they’d won last time, and the top hat donning triangle still managed to make the past couple of days hell. To what end could they keep taking him on? To what end could they expect it to actually work when this supremacy was everywhere to be seen?</p>
<p>“Dipper, <em> look at me! </em>” She shouted, grabbing him by the shoulders and looking into his eyes. “You can do this! This is it! Be the hero!”</p>
<p>Dipper's mind went into a momentary solace as he gazed back at his girlfriend. For at least a moment, the answer was clear. He moistened his lips as he finally spoke. </p>
<p>“Then do it with me.” He replied, simply.</p>
<p>Pacifica paused. And smiled. “Sure.” </p>
<p>She was quietly thrilled. This was it. No secrets. No boundaries. They were doing it together, much as she had wanted from day one. Together, they took hold of the Dynamo, activated it, and aimed. </p>
<p>“Are you ready?” She winked.</p>
<p>“A-as long as I’m with you, I’m ready for anything.” Dipper smiled, awkwardly. “Welcome to my life.”</p>
<p>“Feels great to be here, Dippingsauce. Now, on 3…”</p>
<p>“2…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We don’t have time for this, kids!” Stan snapped. Perhaps understandably, with the urgency at hand, he wrenched the dynamo from their hands and gave it a baseball throw towards the stranded Bill Cipher. </p>
<p>Pacifica and Dipper felt like they should have protested but uh… possibly better to focus on saving the world rather than recompensing their relationship. It was probably one of the most sensible things Grunkle Stan had done all day. </p>
<p>It whistled through the air, rapidly growing louder and louder as it flew through the air. </p>
<p>“NO! NO! YOU WON’T BEAT ME THAT EASILY! MARK MY WORDS, PINE TREE AND LLAMA, THE PAIR OF YOU WILL SUFFER! I’LL SEE TO IT-”</p>
<p>Bill did not have the chance to finish his sentence as the Dynamo ripped through the thin mucus and struck him directly in the eye with a crunch. </p>
<p>The Pines barely had a chance to scream. Curzon barely had a chance to protest. Things went dark, then horrendously bright, then all colours of the rainbow...</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. Armless Glade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>The noise from Northwest Manor was like the distant eruption of a volcano. A rumbling crossed between thunder and an earth-shifting cataclysmic event. In fact, if any of the kids could see over the treeline, they’d have seen an enormous shaft of light protruding from every window, every door and every seam of the manor that loomed over the other side of town.</p><p>However, whether through willful ignorance, distraction over their fiercely entangled emotions - or the process of hitting a statue with an axe - they didn’t notice a <em> thing</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Dust was still rising gently, while Jeff had escaped the scene with some of the spare change he had taken and his holographic, cat themed award. </p><p>It had been a good day to be King of the Gnomes. He’d even gotten to ruin the Nymphs’ day. And that was usually something he saved for special occasions. Or Saturdays. Or both. He’d even gone away no longer thinking of his troubled past with his one-time potential queen. </p><p>He was sure the gnomes would forgive him for selling Steve to a group of tourists last week. How couldn't they? Look at his sticker! </p><p> </p><p>Mabel gave her forehead a dramatic wipe, then placed her hands on her hips proudly as she admired their handiwork. They couldn’t have guessed the impact it had made on their family’s latest encounter.</p><p>There, at their feet, stood the Bill statue - the victim to their unbridled, and heavily enjoyable aggression - its arms broken and pulverised at its sides.</p><p>“Let’s see people make a deal with <em> that </em>.” She said, confidently. “Nobody’s shaking those hands.”</p><p>Kevin chuckled as he struck one of the little stone hands with the back of his blade, knocking off the fingers. “And you’re sure this will work?”</p><p>“Of course it will. Bill always has to shake hands to do a deal. If he hasn’t got hands, he hasn’t got a deal, right? Nobody’s gonna be shaking his statue’s hand if he hasn’t got any.”</p><p>“I mean, sure, it makes sense.” Kevin shrugged. “I’m not an expert in this stuff.”</p><p>“I’m a total expert. I’m a Pines. We’re experts in weird stuff by <em> nature </em>.”</p><p>They both looked proudly at the pile of limestone gravel that surrounded Bill’s cracked triangular form, crushed into oblivion with only fingers being remotely discernable in the dark grey stoney wreckage.    </p><p>It was quite a thorough job.</p><p>Kevin chuckled and leant on his axe, dusting off his hands. “Man, Mabel, you handled that like a pro.”</p><p>She flashed him a wink. “Duh. I’m awesome at hitting things.” </p><p>
  <em> A girl after any Corduroy’s heart.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Even better is literally nobody but us is going to know we did it. Apart from him, maybe. And he’s, like, stuck in there.” She smiled, smugly, giving the statue a boot.</p><p>The lump of triangular, single-eyed limestone fell onto its back, becoming hopelessly embedded into the earth with a cloud of soft, grey dust flying into the air upon impact. </p><p>“I wonder what’s going on back at Northwest manor.” Kevin mumbled. </p><p>“Knowing those guys? Probably nothing.” Mabel giggled, waving the idea away casually as she started climbing a tree for no discernable reason. “Dipper has a habit of making mountains out of molehills, and Pacifica’s <em> soooo </em>dramatic it’s unreal!” </p><p>“You’re the biggest optimist I’ve ever met.” </p><p>“You’re the biggest<em> hunk </em>I’ve ever met! HAWW!” Came the typically chipper reply as she hung by her legs from a branch. “This was fun. A bit weird, but fun.” </p><p>“It feels a bit weird going alone without my brothers and dad.” Kevin smiled, weakly, rubbing the back of his head. “But yeah, I’ve kinda enjoyed it.” </p><p>Mabel held his shoulder, before losing her grip and falling into his arms. It prompted an outbreak of flushed giggling as she climbed back to her feet, linking arms with her pompadoured partner enthusiastically. The two started heading for home, wordlessly agreeing it was time to get back. It felt a lot more natural to walk and talk when things were beginning to get serious. </p><p>“Hey, I get it. For years, me and Dipper were, like, stapled together. This is… this is kinda the first time anyone else has really gotten… y’know. Involved. Properly involved.” She rubbed the back of her head. “It sounds crazy, now, but I guess I never thought I’d finally find that <em> one </em>.” </p><p>For Kevin - who had never really been in much of a relationship before - the language was unforgivably vague. “What one?”</p><p>Mabel squirmed, a slight blush tuning into her cheeks as she pouted. “I mean… my Pacifica.”</p><p>“Pacifica?” Kevin stopped, cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “I dunno if I can live up to the richest, most popular girl in town.” </p><p>The hyperactive twin with rosey cheeks laughed. “I don’t want you to live up to Pacifica. That’s not really what I mean. I mean, I like Pacifica and-” </p><p>“Like, <em> like </em>?” </p><p>Mabel took another moment to think as she mulled it over. She couldn’t deny it had flashed through her head once or twice - but she wasn’t entirely sure if it was attraction or pure and simple admiration. Maybe a little envy. Like, summer romances were meant to be her thing. It’s only natural she’d have the thought that things were a little ‘wrong’.</p><p>And it’s not that she didn’t like girls. Hell, she liked everyone. She just wasn’t sure if prissy bleached blonde rich girl was in her strata of ‘I like this type of person’.</p><p>She bit her lip. Did she like Pacifica? Did she ever even consider the idea of-</p><p> </p><p>“N-na, she’s my brother’s.” She replied, firmly. “I don’t do love triangles. That gets cray cray. And she’s like… wayyyy too fancy, not nearly enough kittens, not nearly enough spontaneous dancing. She’s a complete square.”</p><p>There was a pause between them. Mabel briefly wondered if she was being mean. Was that mean? I mean, it was kinda true, but- </p><p>“Don’t tell her I said that, though. What I meant is more finding <em> my </em>perfect match, like Dipper and Pacifica have.”</p><p>Kevin snorted. “I don’t think Pacifica and your brother are a perfect match. More the whole opposites attract thing. I think we’re far more… y’know. Matchy.”</p><p>“Yeah, but that’s because we’re way better. And cooler. And better looking.” Mabel nodded sincerely. “We’re the town’s top power couple!”</p><p>The young man with the impressive quiff bit his lip as they kept walking. “Are you sure you really wanna be wrapped up in my family? I mean, we’re pretty crazy. My Dad scares everyone. Even the mailman, and I’m pretty sure he’s a werewolf.”</p><p>“Hey, look, this was gonna happen sooner or later. My family and your family. Like, my brother drooled after your sister for most of last summer.”</p><p>“...Seriously?”</p><p>“Oh yeah, I mean, totally obsessed.”</p><p>Kevin contemplated the idea and wrinkled his nose, plunging his hands into his pockets as he kicked along one of the pieces of limestone that had once been Bill Cipher’s left arm. “<em>Gross</em>.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0039"><h2>39. Cleanup in Room #618</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p>
<p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p>
<p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was perhaps fitting of Ford’s allusions to the Hadron Collider that, for at least a few seconds, there was an effect not unlike it inside that giant Cathedral. The forces were immense. Curzon roared and screamed as his shadowy body swelled and pulsed in size from the sudden burst of energy. Ford had been quite correct, too, that the enormous, continuous surge from the Stanford Dynamo was sufficient to drive Curzon’s instability into overdrive. But his fairly well informed leap of faith produced far more of an effect than even<em> he </em>expected.</p>
<p>The family dived behind the solid stone altar in horror as Curzon didn’t just blow up or something. He went<em> supernova</em>. With an enormous, catastrophic rumbling, the stained glass surrounding the chapel shattered, the decorative mahogany and stonework began to creak and crumble, and, with a blinding flash of light, he reached his critical mass. </p>
<p>The family were unable to watch what happened next. The glaring mass was too bright, the noise too immense, the heat too unbearable. Bill Cipher and Curzon shared in their furious uproar together as the cataclysmic event unfolded before them, the portal rapidly changing, mutating and malforming as the energy coursed through Cankerblight’s already unpredictable form.</p>
<p>Bolts of electricity flew, sparks scattered, and roaring blue flames erupted in thin streaks that licked the moist stone of the Cathedral’s innermost structure. Roars and screams could be heard in all manner of accents and voices across the building’s surface levels and above - Curzon’s other faces and facades joining in his refrain of pain and fury. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was like an enormous electrical storm. A giant nuclear burst that evoked equal levels of doom and awe. </p>
<p>For Pacifica and Dipper, it might have well felt like the end of the world had been brought by their hands. </p>
<p>For Ford, it felt more like every third tuesday during his extra dimensional travels. </p>
<p>For Stan, it was like a hallucination he remembered when he drank one too many gallons of expired apple juice and ate a stranger’s cheese plant outside of Detroit in 1979.</p>
<p>It was there that Ford’s ultimate hope - sort of - took hold. When Curzon’s portal finally reached its limits… it began to collapse. And collapse with <em> style </em>. The supernova concept held clear as the inky black shadow creature became so large and so dense he fell into himself, the portal rapidly becoming its own, self contained weirdness vacuum. A black hole for oddity and anomaly. </p>
<p>“NO! NO! NOOO!” Bill Cipher screamed frantically as the portal began to swallow into itself, Curzon’s black mass following it, stretching like saltwater taffy as it was swallowed in with an overpowering scent of fennel, mixed with the unmistakable scent of electrical burning. </p>
<p>It singed their sinuses, felt like it was burning their skin - the atmosphere in the room became an overwhelmingly unpleasant blend of acrid smoke, sizzling vapours and herbs - choking them in a clagging, sodden smog that felt hellish and aquatic. Pacifica had thought of herself as having been in a tight spot or two over the past few weeks, but for those few moments, she was certain this was it. This was how it ended. </p>
<p>The bubbling, burning, wretched breath exhaled by the wormhole was unbelievably unpleasant, Dipper almost disappearing from her view, the Grunkles' coughing and wheezing acting as her only recognisable refrain amongst that horrific whining, screaming and rushing of air that spelt doom for Cankerblight and his wretched existence underneath Gravity Falls. </p>
<p>Steadily, every ounce of Curzon - and every oozing, dripping mass of his presence, ripped out of the building, screaming as it flew through the mortar, brickwork and corridors of the manor, steadily returning it to the rightful state it had been in. Similar to Bill’s influence upon Gravity Falls after Weirdmageddon, every bit of darkness and corruption was swallowed. Every bit of him was sucked dry from the building, like nougat inside one of Soos’s emergency candy bars. </p>
<p>Floors shifted back into place. Earth shifted. Ceilings grinded back into place. Outside, the roofs became straight and aligned. Walls returned to their engineered shape and fireplaces ceased burning thick, clagging fennel vapours. The gardens drained of that purple and black flood of darkness and returned to their deep hues of green. Hedges and bushes suddenly returned to their initial shapes and positions. Lights returned to their warm glow. </p>
<p>The sky cleared, those swirling clouds above the building choking down its many chimneys as the fennel scented fog dissipated into faint waves of crawling dust - before being wrenched back into the rumbling manor in roughly the same amount of time it took for Mabel to bedazzle her face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>For Preston Northwest, it was a sight for sore eyes. His prominent brow raised in surprise as he stood victorious on his ride-on lawnmower, scythe in hand-battered, bruised, covered in the sticky, sap like excretions of the killer topiaries - which, rather irritatingly, hadn’t been removed from his luxury cat burglar ensemble. </p>
<p>He smiled for what felt like the first time in well over a week. </p>
<p>His manor looked like home again. Ignoring the fact it definitely wasn’t his home anymore. He took a cautious step forward and tapped one of his award running rose bushes gingerly, prepared to strike it down with his scythe should it start moving again.</p>
<p>It didn’t. It just rustled before falling still and silent. Not a growl, not a gurgle, not a whimper - not even an irritating cockney accent. The air was suddenly clear, the sky suddenly normal, the mansion and its grounds standing back in its place as the rightful gem in the town’s skyline. </p>
<p>He was impressed. If only momentarily. The Pines - for all of their worthlessness, their arrogance, their lack of class, their coarse language et al - they had done it. He still didn’t like them, still didn’t like his daughter mixing with them, but he was, at least, slightly more respectful of the town’s washed up scam artist ‘scientist researchers’. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He blinked as he realised. His<em> daughter </em>was in there with them. They might have done it, but were<em> they </em>safe? Was<em> she </em>safe? </p>
<p>And what could Cankerblight have told her? He was no fool - well, at least, not entirely. If Pacifica had heard more than he had wanted her to, then…</p>
<p>Then perhaps his hope to rekindle their family bond, as little as he genuinely understood it, had been thrown to the wayside. He couldn't allow that to happen. He needed to talk to her first. </p>
<p>He adjusted his designer catsuit, dropped his scythe, and made a beeline for the door. After all, he<em> was </em>still her father.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. Scorched Earth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>It was Dipper who woke up first. And he was none the better for such an achievement. The adrenaline, the exhaustion, the fact his senses were<em> screaming </em> - it was no wonder he couldn't stop trembling. </p><p>Curzon was gone. Bill was gone. All that remained was a large, blackened impact mark in the building’s fabric that rolled up every single wall, window, wood panel and pew. </p><p>His clothes were blackened and scorched in places, his legs slightly bruised here and there - perhaps time he reconsidered wearing shorts for these mystery hunts - But he was<em> fine</em>. He stumbled up to his feet and groaned, rubbing his aching head, trying to calm down his rapidly beating heart and still overbearing feelings of anxiety and pure panic. </p><p>He looked around through the still smoke and smogged up cathedral hall - largely due, now, to the smouldering wood, stone and tapestry. The Grunkles were stirring too - though were substantially less dazed. In fact, you’d be forgiven for thinking it was a completely ordinary occurrence for both of them.</p><p> </p><p>Their voices reverberated across the room, disorientating the teenager as he fondled blindly for anyone he recognised. </p><p>“Jeez louise, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Again.”</p><p>“When have you been hit by a truck?!” Ford spluttered, trying to wipe his glasses clean.</p><p>“1982, Sixer. Twice. Same truck.” Stan replied - unwillingly doing exactly the same as his brother.</p><p>“I’m- I’m not even going to ask.”</p><p>“I told the truck driver she looked like the possum I kept as a pet when I was a kid.”</p><p>“I thought I was the only one who remembered that rabid little-”</p><p>“Hey. We don’t disrespect Shanklin in this family, ya jerk.”</p><p> </p><p>Things went silent again as Dipper drew closer to them, his silhouette starting to form in the reeling crowds of dust and smoke. They peered as best they could, narrowing their eyes in the hopes of making out that mysterious, shadowy figure, and evaluating the potential threat at hand. </p><p>Ford grabbed one of his weapons cautiously. "Show yourself."</p><p>"Guys?" </p><p>The worried tone, that puberty pitchiness, the uncomfortable shifting. Oh yes, that was their Great Nephew in the flesh. </p><p>"Dippy?" Stan beamed and lifted his Grephew up in his arms. "Dammit kid, you had us worried! Man, you're shaking like my second cousin did during withdrawal!" </p><p>Dipper laughed, nervously holding onto his uncle's arms. "Where's Pacifica?" </p><p>"Dunno kid, we haven't been awake much longer than you. Probably not a good idea to go wandering."</p><p>Ford stood with a grunt and rubbed his chin. "We need to get some fresh air into here if we want to be sure there's no further threat…"</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>WHAM! </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>The Cathedral doors suddenly flew open, a blast of air swilling away much of the smoke and clearing a beam of soft, warm, gas fuelled flame through the darkness of the Ciphernaut's cathedral. </p><p>Preston ran in frantically, looking around the still smoggy space, with no due care or caution. "Pacifica?!" </p><p>A soft, weak splutter rang out from one of the corners. "D-dad…?"</p><p>"Oh thank goodness!" Preston grinned and grabbed his daughter, hugging her tightly as the smog excited the room, revealing the most awkward sight Dipper and the Grunkles thought they had ever seen. </p><p>Pacifica stood there, frozen, her eyes wide and panicked as she looked at the Pines. It wasn’t so much that her father had never hugged her. It was more that it was<em> usually </em>for a publicity event or a photograph. </p><p>“You had me worried, daughter! Are you hurt? Oh come, let’s-”</p><p>He was being as nice as he could possibly fathom, and she was pretty sure she knew why. Part of her felt like slapping him across the face or something. She lowered her eyebrows and slowly - albeit firmly - slipped away from her father’s arms, glaring up at him. </p><p>Preston froze and raised his eyebrow. </p><p>Things fell silent - save the crackling of flames. The man in the cat burglar get-up immediately recognised what had happened. Pacifica had learned. Learned more than he had hoped for. </p><p>He moistened his lips as his eyes flitted to the Grunkles and the boy in the lumberjack cap, all of whom were glaring at him with no shortage of very genuine fury. He adjusted his tie and coughed into his hand as the tension grew so thick you could slice it up and serve it to your family on Thanksgiving. </p><p>“How much do you know?”</p><p>“You tell me.” His daughter replied, every word dripping with venom. </p><p>“I…” </p><p>She rolled her eyes and counted on her fingers. “Susan. Toby. The Diner. Bill. Curzon. Anything else I’ve missed, father?”</p><p>“No, no, that’s - that’s everything.”</p><p>“Liar.”</p><p>Preston froze and stood up straight, his eyes widened. For a moment his moustache twitched as he twisted his lip. “Excuse me?”</p><p>“Did I stutter?”</p><p>“Pacifica, I-”</p><p>She whipped her hair and furrowed her brow, dusting some of the dirt from her sleeves and marching - with purpose - towards the frame that Curzon had opened to her. Preston audibly gulped. He knew all too well what was inside. </p><p>“You want to know what I’ve missed?” She threw the battered mahogany doors open and jabbed furiously at the split vellum family tree. “This. Explain <em> this </em>to me, Dad.”</p><p>“Pacifica, please don’t touch that. It’s- it’s a very valuable-”</p><p>“Don’t you DARE tell me I can’t touch this stuff, Dad! Explain this to me, <b> <em>right now!</em></b>” She yelled, poking the bottom of the document, where she belonged.</p><p> </p><p>Despite all of her still smeared makeup, her still red, swollen eyes and her sniffling, Pacifica was now taking charge. She was done. It was, to Dipper and the Grunkles at least, more than understandable. Over what was little more than a few days, her life and her knowledge of her family had been flipped upside down. This was no longer Pacifica being forced to learn - this was Pacifica<em> demanding </em>to learn. The kid gloves were off. Pacifica was now being about as grown up and as demanding as she could muster. </p><p>The old man squirmed, a bead of sweat trickling down his thick brow as the Pines - and his estranged daughter - pierced him with furious, judgemental glares. Every instinct he had was to lie out of it, or flit through the opened doorway and leave it all behind, swear off of it, never say a word…</p><p>But then, that had basically been his modus operandi for most of his life.</p><p>This was it. It was time for Preston Northwest to accept that, in fact…</p><p>
  <em> His family had made mistakes. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He rubbed his chin and sighed. “Alright. Alright, now listen. I- I believed all of this wholeheartedly when I was young, Pacifica. This was my life when I was your age. I was taught everything that this family stood for and- and I believed in it. I was all for marrying you off, making deals with Cipher, maintaining the cover up...but after Weirdmageddon and the… unpleasantness with Greasy’s Diner, I uh… I started realising I might be wrong.” </p><p>His daughter remained steadfast. “You tried to ruin my life.”</p><p>“And I didn’t<em> want </em>to anymore. Yes, I’ve… tried to change the course of things. I was certain it was the right thing to do. For your income, for our image, for our future. I just wanted to make sure you got what you deserved. The life you were raised for.<br/>I could have forced the marriage, you know. I could have forced you home. I could have kept you away from all of this conspiracy and mystery nonsense. I tried to keep you away from the wider family. </p><p>There was a reason all of those paintings were kept in a hidden room. A reason I never tried to indoctrinate you into the Ciphernauts. I didn’t<em> believe </em>in it. I didn’t<em> want </em>you wrapped up in this nonsense. I knew it was wrong. I <em> cared </em>about you. I… I only kept it up because it was my <em> duty </em>as a Northwest.”</p><p>Stan leaned over to Ford and mumbled in awe. “You’d think he expects a freakin’ gold medal for being a barely adequate dad.”</p><p>“Didn’t you try to apply for a grifter award last year?”</p><p>“Yeah, but at least I knew I <em> deserved </em>it.”</p><p> </p><p>Pacifica was unmoved. Although it was hard to deny it felt a <em> little </em>better to know her Dad had at least one designer leather-covered foot in the realms of sanity, there was no chance she was going to forgive nor forget the sheer horrors that had been hidden underneath her home. Nor was she ever going to forgive her Dad’s complicity in it. How could she?</p><p>She gestured back to the calligraphic family tree, still speaking with no small amount of barely-restrained anger. This was it; this was the big one. </p><p>“And why does it just<em> stop</em>, Dad? Am I not<em> allowed </em>to have kids? Am I not <em> meant </em> to keep anything going or keep worshipping some sort of creepy geometric shape?"</p><p>Preston took a deep breath. “The Fundhausers and the Northwests were meant to become ruling families in a post-Weirdmageddon world. That was Nathaniel Northwest’s ultimate plan… The idea was that it was the finale. The final generation of the Northwest’s ultimate coup. You take over Weirdmageddon, the rest of our worldwide relations and contacts join in, we profit through selling everything from mutant meat to Dippin’ Dots.”</p><p>Pacifica's eyes widened as she clasped her forehead. She was pretty sure she'd have preferred to be forbidden from ever having children. I mean, what, she was meant to be the <em> CEO of Weirdmageddon</em>? If there was any proof that Nathaniel Northwest was insane - and lacked foresight - it was there, staring them in the face. </p><p>She fell completely silent as she tried to unpack that little revelation. She was almost… flattered wasn't the right word. But only a year or so ago she'd have thought that was really damned cool.</p><p>Save, y'know, the apocalyptic thing. </p><p>Now she was equally concerned about breaking the news to Grenda. What if Marius was still clued in?  She knew his Dad was dead, but- could it all be another grand, manipulative way into Gravity Falls? What could they do? They needed to investigate. But how was one meant to investigate when Summer was nearly over? What if Marius’s dad was dead because of-No. No way. Nonono. She couldn’t deal with that idea. </p><p>The room's silence was broken only by the cracking of smouldering tapestry that curled around them. And Grunkle Stan, of course. “What’s with the Dippin’ Dots?”</p><p>“Everyone knows they’re about as strange and cunning a business you can get. That and gourmet jelly beans. It would have been an empire.”</p><p>“So <em> that’s </em> why you tried to make a deal with him.” Dipper chimed in.</p><p>“I uh… never expected Weirdmageddon to take place so soon, and never believed much in it, admittedly, but… more or less correct. When Bill was there in front of me, it seemed foolhardy not to try and put the deal on the table. Of course, we now know that it was all.."</p><p>The magnate touched his nose gingerly as he went through the graphic memory of his facial orifices. It was still a sense of both fury and fear to consider the momentary - albeit terrifying - mutilation at the hand of a creature that was supposed to be his family's friend, benevolent interdimensional god and business partner. </p><p>The punctuation of them melting Nathaniel Northwest's statue was the most graphic declaration of the deal being fake that they could ever have.</p><p>His face darkened as he seemed to ruminate on it a little longer than expected before mumbling, quietly, "That it was all… A joke. I'm still processing that to this day."</p><p> </p><p>Ford blurted out his very visceral response with no shortage of anger. "Seriously? <em> Seriously?!</em>" </p><p>"listen to me, Pines." Preston replied through gritted teeth. "You have no leeway to discuss bad deals. Let's not forget it's <em> your </em> machine that caused Weirdmageddon in the first place.”</p><p>“And the weirdness bonds…?” Dipper ventured. “You lost your home, but how the hell did that work?”</p><p>"Weirdness bonds were a creation of Nathaniel Northwest, too. Sort of a private system on the stock market.” The old man coughed and rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “It uh… didn’t work out as expected. After all, the Weirdness stayed strictly in Gravity Falls. Who’d invest?”</p><p>Dipper raised a bewildered eyebrow. He wasn't much of a businessman but he was pretty sure that entire concept didn't make an iota of sense. </p><p>The millionaire sucked air through his teeth. "T-this isn't easy for me, Pacifica. But I want you to know that… I'm sorry."</p><p>Pacifica blinked and looked to Dipper and the Grunkles, who only shrugged in response. It was a moment she wasn't prepared for but had always<em> hoped </em>for. She sobbed and hugged the old man. She wasn't even entirely sure why. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Preston held her firmly and looked at the floor in shame. </p><p> </p><p>They both knew there was no repairing the family's past, nor Preston's own pig headed, often hate filled behaviour. The rot ran too deep. The horror was too embedded into the Northwest name for Pacifica to ever feel comfortable being part of it. </p><p>The war for Preston to take his daughter back to where she belonged was over. He had lost. And he knew it. She wordlessly let go, walked back to Dipper and wrapped her arm around his waist, looking the magnate in the eyes. </p><p>He didn't say a word in response. </p><p> </p><p>The family looked up at the burning banner of Bill Cipher as the flames crawled up the antique fabric, turning it into ash and wrapping around that large, glowing eye in the centre. The moment the crawling licks of fire hit, every one of those circuit board veins that led out across floor, wall, and ceiling flashed a bright red before fizzling away into nothing. </p><p>Cipher was no longer watching. His grip on the Manor was released in a scattering of blackened, smouldering ash and smoke. His connection was severed. </p><p>The triangular Demon was once again resigned to limbo - while it seemed, for now, Pacifica had left her limbo behind and finally gained a sense of closure.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0041"><h2>41. Closure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>The mansion's return to normality was a welcome relief to a family who had to hand the keys back at some point. However, it was now a damned sight more awkward to be there now that they had - seemingly - reached the natural conclusion of their little adventure. </p><p>It didn't take very long to extinguish the flames. The underground lair's almost constant, amphibious atmosphere made it difficult for a fire to burn. It was far from exciting - more akin to cleaning a floor than it was to fighting back an inferno. </p><p>Pacifica never thought she'd get bored stopping a fire, but here it was, plain as day. Idly splashing old lumps of brick, stone, tapestry and iron with water from a hosepipe as if she was watering a rose garden. </p><p> </p><p>Her head was still swimming with what she'd learned. The fact her father had said<em> sorry</em>. The fact she and Dipper had taken all of this on together, just as she had wanted. The fact Dipper had kept his word - and trusted her.</p><p>Part of her couldn't help but notice that, to an extent, her father<em> had </em>voiced a certain approval of them. After all, he hadn't enforced the Marius stuff. Since the OregCo crap, he'd let them be. </p><p>Maybe, to an extent, Preston has realised his daughter was happy with the scrappy, dorky little hero. </p><p>Maybe. Just maybe.</p><p>Just as well. She kind of couldn't stand Marius. She cringed at the thought of being with that long haired, handsome little creep with the beauty mark on his cheek and the perfect hair who smelt like freshly cut maple wood- If she kept saying that it might convince even her subconscious. Right? </p><p>She looked at Dipper and couldn't help but smile. Yeah. <em> Right</em>. She had made her choice and that worked fine for her. The two stepped a little closer, linked hands and shared a nervous, shaky, albeit sincere kiss. </p><p>Pacifica giggled and rested her head on Dipper's shoulder. She was tired. Dead tired. But she felt… Strangely content. Like she was at peace. </p><p>At least until the PTSD hit. She'd make sure Preston would pay for the damned therapy bills.</p><p> </p><p>They left the scalded cathedral quietly, Pacifica and Dipper glancing up as that giant tapestry finally rescinded into nothing more than smouldering ropes and wire, hanging from the ceiling. </p><p>It was a pretty pertinent spot of symbolism. Sort of a personal triumph. </p><p>With only two people barely fitting in the old elevator, it was naturally a very slow, awkward departure, with the Grunkles, Preston, Pacifica and Dipper all travelling in separate journeys respectively. </p><p>It was the Grunkles who went first. They perhaps figured that Pacifica might need more time alone with her estranged father. Realistically, it was a pretty damned dumb and tone-deaf decision. </p><p>The two kids and the greying multimillionaire stood together in stony silence as they waited for the cage to return to them. The humming of the old lanterns and shallow dripping of moisture was the only soundtrack to the moment, save the rumbling of the ancient cogs, belts and weights that operated the vintage cage-lift. </p><p>
  <em> Drip. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Drip. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Drip. </em>
</p><p>Pacifica thought she was going to go insane if it kept being so damned quiet. She was almost relieved when her dad opened his oblivious, arrogant mouth. </p><p>“This was a... well, another invention of the Wentworths.” Preston explained as it clattered back down to meet them. He seemed almost proud in his tone, which would have been comical had the reality not been made clear. “Ingenious, really. Befitting of the rest of the mansion.”</p><p>“Especially considering he didn’t even know he was doing it.” Dipper mumbled bitterly. </p><p>Preston twitched. “Yes.. ahm. Well. I Suppose-”</p><p>The old metal elevator car reached the bottom with a hollow clunk, the iron door swinging open to welcome its next recipient. Preston didn’t bother finishing his sentence. He simply stepped on board, nodded to the two kids and ascended back to the surface without another word. </p><p> </p><p>Pacifica and Dipper exchanged a warm smile as they spent their last few minutes under the mansion together, their hands clasped firmly. While it had undoubtedly been a traumatic experience, they both felt… well, better for it. </p><p>Not just for having destroyed another of Bill’s entrances into the human world, nor simply for sending the scourge that was Cankerblight away in the same manner. Instead, they simply felt closer. More understanding towards eachother and - perhaps crucially - had learnt once again how much their little partnership could be trusted.</p><p>They had, after all, effectively done it together. This time, with Pacifica’s personal circumstances firmly on centre stage. </p><p>“Do you think you’ll be okay?” Dipper ventured. </p><p>“I think I’ll be fine, Dip.” She smiled and tapped his nose. “This needed to happen sooner or later.”</p><p>Dipper could tell it was a show of bravery rather than a firm self belief. He decided it best not to pursue it for now. Instead, he looked around and gesticulated vaguely. “Well, what should we do after all this?”</p><p>“Realistically? We have to tell Toby and Susan. They deserve to know. Especially if Curzon’s curses and stuff are why they’re both so… y’know.”</p><p>“Bonkers?”</p><p>Pacifica paused as she thought it over, before nodding in agreement with some marked enthusiasm. That seemed like a fitting weird. “Yeah. Yeah, bonkers.” </p><p>"Yeah. I guess. But I kinda meant… right now. Y’know?” Dipper smiled and twisted his foot awkwardly. "Like, me and you?"</p><p> </p><p>The elevator reached the bottom with a scraping clank, and the two squeezed in together. Pacifica gave a broad, cheeky grin and tapped her boyfriend's nose with her usual attitude. </p><p>"Guess we'll find out." she beamed, rifling through her pockets.</p><p>"What? What are you hiding in there?" </p><p>"New lipstick." she winked as she applied it. "Figure it's time to test it out. Don't you think?" </p><p>The elevator began its juddering ascent - as Pacifica threw her arms around her boyfriend, and locked lips with him happily. They suddenly found themselves remarkably grateful for the low speed of the elevator’s shuddering climb towards the surface world. </p><p>For at least that ten or so minutes, nothing else mattered. They forgot practically everything else in their minds. Everything else of the evening. It was just Pacifica and Dipper - and, right now, that was exactly what they wanted.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0042"><h2>42. The Surface</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p>
<p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p>
<p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Preston made the executive decision to leave the mansion before the kids arrived back at the ground floor, and hoped to do so unnoticed. He was feeling particularly over-challenged in the Pines’ company, and was fairly sure his continued presence was… providing little comfort to his daughter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was probably the first time in history that a Northwest had realised they’d outstayed their welcome.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Leavin’ so soon, slick?” Stan’s voice pierced the darkness with its usual lack of subtlety. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Preston froze in place just as he was straddling the broken window frame. “Y-yes, well, I figured-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan’s meaty hand gripped his shoulder. The aging millionaire blinked, but decided not to insist he remove it. It was clear the old man in the fez had something to say that was important.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After the night his family’s actions had given them, even Preston’s corrupt mind figured that Stanley deserved the time of day. Even if he was fairly sure the old criminal had very little of value on his mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last thing he expected was an attempt at </span>
  <em>
    <span>understanding.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, Preston, I get that you’d prefer Blondie to be in company with other rich kids. Alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The magnate rolled his shoulders. “Well, I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I get it. I wasn’t entirely pleased with Dipper hanging out with </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>either.” Stan continued. “But these kids, they uh… they’re happy together. They like eachother. They support eachother. An’ I think that’s something we’ve gotta be pleased for..”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pines, I don’t know what manipulation you’re trying-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Preston, I’m being serious. I know this has prolly been a lot to unpack tonight for you and her. I get it. But can ya really say we’re the bad ones? Can ya really say we’re doing a crummy job?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a pause. Preston wordlessly wrote his phone number down on a slip of fine, silken paper and tucked it into Stan’s chest pocket.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Look after her, Stanley. And keep me informed, won’t you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The multimillionaire refused to make eye contact with the old man - while Stan was no supreme intellect, he was more than used to making deals - and more than competent enough to understand what Preston was getting at. He adjusted his fez and smiled, giving the Northwest patriarch a wink and a shot with a finger gun. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got it, chief.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And after summer, you have to let me know who’s taking charge. I won’t intrude, but I do want to keep up her schooling at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Preston added. “If I have to help them financially, so be it. But you’d better make sure she’s damned well happy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If we can’t do it, pal, you can get her back whenever you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a gentleman’s agreement.” Preston nodded, offering his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think any of us are gentlemen here.” Stan laughed as he clasped his hand. “But sure. No strings attached.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Stanley.” Preston smiled as he climbed through the window. “But do me a favour, ey?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If the boy’s going to be in public with my daughter, at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least </span>
  </em>
  <span>make him </span>
  <em>
    <span>shower </span>
  </em>
  <span>a bit more often.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m a Grunkle, not a miracle worker. HA!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Preston gave his ancestral home another proud, loving glance, before climbing out through the broken window and going back home, content that - for the first time in his life, he might have actually brought some good to the world. At least, to the world that mattered most - his daughter’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a stirring feeling of clarity. Even if he was already thinking about how to profit from the back of a new, more positive persona. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stan watched proudly, his hands on his hips, as his brother stepped alongside. “That guy’s gonna be an evil jerk again the moment he gets back home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Agreed.” Ford chuckled. “But you handled it well, Stanley. Hopefully, this arrangement will last.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still need to think about after Summer, Sixer.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not our decision, Stanley. For now, I think we need to give those kids a wide berth. I don’t think even we could have expected what’s gone on in this building.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No kiddin’. Do you think Cipher’s actually kicked it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like to think so.” Ford sighed, plunging his hands into his pockets. “I’d be curious as to what actually happened to his arms. I’ve not seen anything like that before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan shrugged and patted his brother’s shoulder. “Must be a good thing, though. Right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A knock at the door startled the two old men. They shared a glance and gingerly approached it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That depends. What if the force that hit him so hard is even more chaotic?” Ford continued. “Even more terrifying? Even more capable of bringing disaster?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They fiddled with the door’s elegant brass handle and slowly pulled it open, so they could peer out over the battered El Diablo that sat astray the building’s elegant stucco doorsteps. Perhaps it was the tension in Ford’s words, or his potential alluding to a greater doomsday on the horizon - but they found themselves somewhat fearful of what may lurk beyond. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps it was the feds, following the doubtless countless reports of chaos upon Northwest hilltop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps it was Fiddleford, rightfully wondering why there was a car jammed into the building’s facade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps it was their next adversary. Something so haunting, so terrifying, so disastrously powerful that it had successfully removed Bill Cipher’s very limbs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What monster could have hurt one of the universe’s most powerful entities so heavily? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There stood Mabel and Kevin, leaning on axes atop the battered automobile,  holding a tiny glass jar triumphantly like a trophy. Inside, there was the unmistakable shape of a cracked limestone thumb.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ford grinned from ear to ear. "I might have guessed. I told you both to stay out of trouble."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"She's a Pines." Stan grinned, picking her up and perching her on his shoulder. "Good luck with that, right sweetie?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Right!" Mabel beamed proudly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kevin stood there awkwardly and smiled at the Grunkles. He was still - really - not meant to be with Mabel at all, especially not at this time. He was just hoping they wouldn't tell his Dad. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Welcome to the family, kid." Stanley beamed. "Ya did good." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ford cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. "Well, you certainly know how to make an impression…"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Especially on Bill's stupid hands!" Mabel laughed excitedly. "What happened while we were gone?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Nothing too exciting." Ford smiled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Promise?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, I-" </span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The family was interrupted by the arrival of the elevator. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dipper chuckled dumbly as he staggered out, smothered in rich hues of ruby red that blended almost perfectly with his complexion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"This stuff is meant to be smear proof." Pacifica grinned smugly, walking out after him. "Can you believe that?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mabel tried not to laugh. "You should probably get a refund, girl."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I know, right?" the blonde smiled, wrapping an arm around her bewildered boyfriend. "I think Dipper likes it otherwise, though. What did we miss?" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stan and Ford glanced at each other, then the stone thumb in the jar, then the broken window, then the power couple who had apparently spent the entire ten minute elevator trip testing lipstick. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I think we're prolly gonna need a bit of a catch up. Who wants breakfast?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sounds good." Ford laughed. "After that I'm going to need to set up a dating profile or something. This is getting ridiculous."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Pretty sure everything we've done this summer is ridiculous." Pacifica sighed, adjusting her hair. "I could murder for a cup of coffee." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You'll get a babyccino and like it." Ford replied sternly as the family made their way to the mansion's kitchen. "Of course, that's if McGucket's diet has expanded to involve more than bacon."</span>
</p>
<p><span>So ended one of the most chaotic nights of their lives. Not with a bang, nor a whimper, but with bacon and pancakes. </span> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0043"><h2>43. Terms & Conditions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Toby Determined was surprised to be woken from his bed that Sunday morning. Of course, his bed was actually his underwear drawer inside the Gossiper’s office, and he was used to being stirred by snow, rain, hail, thunder… </p><p>Not by a cup of Breakfast tea and the sound of heavy building equipment. </p><p>“Oh Marbles! This is it! This is the end! They’ve discovered the labels I tore off of those mattresses! It’s all over! I’m sorry, Mattress King! I’m sorry!!”</p><p>“Toby. Toby, for pity’s sake, wake up, you little goblin!”</p><p>“...Mr. Northwest?! Oh no, please, don’t try and take my pancreas!” Toby scrambled out of his drawer in fear, his kitten-print jammies almost being soiled in terror as he hid behind his desk. The wrath of Preston Northwest was the only thing he feared more than the acne-ridden overlord of nighttime comfort. </p><p>“I’m not here for your internal organs, Determined. What the hell would I do with them? They’re probably as malformed as your spine.”</p><p>“The doctor says my spine is <em> special!"</em></p><p>“Eugh. Look, I’m here to tell you our contract is over, Toby. With interest.”</p><p>“Y-you don’t want me to be your PR sla- partner anymore?”</p><p>“No, Toby. My daughter has convinced me it was an… unethical move.”</p><p>Toby blinked and smiled; at least, as far as his elongated underbite<em> could </em>smile. He knew this meant that the story he had handed to the Northwest heir had done its job. It wasn’t quite the scoop he was waiting for - but as far as a compromise went, he was happy to accept it. He wasn’t one for revenge, anyway.</p><p>Not since the last time he’d developed a grudge against a raccoon on Southern Street over a second-hand slice of pizza. </p><p> </p><p>“So w-what’s the interest?” Toby stammered, beginning to become increasingly excited. </p><p>“We’re rebuilding your damned office, Toby.” Northwest replied, his stiff upper lip barely flexing as he spoke, the Northwest Building Company’s foremen and crews beginning to swarm the minuscule, draughty structure.</p><p>The head foreman, one Albert M. Sternumhammer, was particularly perturbed by proceedings. He had, after all, consulted on the majority of Preston Northwest’s building projects, and usually understood the self-rewarding motivations behind each. </p><p>He was a short, porcine fellow with a teardrop shaped head and an ill-fitted suit, punctuated with a comically small bowler hat perched atop of his tiny brow. His pencil moustache twisted as he inspected the crooked, wooden building, tugging on his uncomfortably tight shirt collar as he went to work taking notes and drinking copious amounts of Earl Grey Tea. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh my goodness! It’s like all of my dreams have come truuuue!” the diminutive reporter cried out loud, embracing Preston as if he was a cardboard cutout of Sandra Jimenez. </p><p>Albert balked and backed away slightly. He wasn’t familiar with the disgusting little reporter and was somewhat concerned he might be next to receive a sweaty, fetid cuddle from the little gnome creature with whiskers.</p><p>Preston grimaced and pushed the little man away, punctuated with a decent squeeze of hand sanitiser. “Don’t push your luck, Determined. I’m doing this to keep you damned well quiet, do I make myself clear?”</p><p>“A unwritten NDA! This is the most exciting day of my life!” </p><p>“Whatever keeps those pyjamas on, Determined. Just… get out of my sight while we build this damned thing, would you?”</p><p>“Yes Sir-ee!” Toby beamed. “Let me just go get changed!”</p><p>“Be quick.” The millionaire huffed.</p><p>“Yes, Sir!” Toby replied enthusiastically, ripping off his pyjamas to reveal his usual day to day outfit of tweeds and bow tie. That answered a few too many questions about the bizarre little journalist’s scent, and none of them were particularly pleasant. </p><p> </p><p>Preston’s eyebrows raised. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, before twisting on his heel and stepped out of the office, leaving the little man to grab his valuables and depart the worksite of the new Gossiper offices. </p><p>“Get on with it, men. I want this toothpick shack replaced by bricks and mortar in twelve hours.” He shouted, clapping his hands together. “Money’s no object, so just get it done properly, and quickly.”</p><p>The chief foreman twisted his lip and eyed the plans with suspicion as he stepped behind his boss, looking around the ramshackle newspaper office with increasing confusion. There was no natural resource, no oil, gold or coal in the surveyed area, no valuables to steal, no potential insurance scams… </p><p>He leaned in and whispered as soon as Toby was out of earshot. “I don’t get it, Mr. Northwest. What do <em> you </em>get from this?”</p><p>“That little man knows more than he appears. Think of this as a colossal bribe.” Preston replied in a hushed tone.</p><p>“Like the airforce base?”</p><p>“Like the airforce base.”</p><p>The foreman nodded sincerely and wrote ‘Important bribe’ on the diagram in his hands with sincerity. That, at least, was a language that the Northwest Construction Company was used to dealing with.</p><p> </p><p>Preston looked up at the portrait of Tobias Determined upon the wall and almost immediately froze, as those oil-paint eyes pierced him furiously. That famous, steely eyed look of the forgotten reporter seemingly reached right down into the bottom of him. Preston was not a superstitious man - surprisingly, considering how much of the paranormal he had encountered - but, for only a moment, he felt like he was being watched.</p><p>Watched and judged. </p><p>He huffed and left the office without another word. Perhaps it was just as well...</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0044"><h2>44. Not Quite Cooper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>After spending the next day doing nothing but resting - and celebrating their triumph against Bill Cipher - Pacifica was pretty happy to be back at Greasy's Diner. The familiar, homey smell of raw wood, coffee and bacon was still one of comfort and solace for her - and a welcome back to relative normality. </p><p>Well, for Gravity Falls. </p><p>At the very least, the power lines had been repaired, with the official line being that a pylon had been hit by an articulated truck carrying canisters of hallucinogenic gas. The hope was that it would at least explain some of the stranger occurrences that had been reported to the local authorities. </p><p>Of course, Pacifica knew better - but figured it was best to keep her mouth shut. Sometimes it was better to keep people in the dark. Especially if the truth was something terrifying. </p><p>Her own resilience was something that she was taking particular pride in right now. She was serving with a smile, feeling chipper and ready to take on the world. The tips had been great, the customers friendly, and Mabel had text her to ask if it was okay for the girls to visit. It was a damned good Monday, all things considered. </p><p>She occasionally, however, cast a worried glance towards Susan, who was still working diligently in her usual routine of pouring coffee, serving food with a well natured smile and fixing things. In every step the older woman took, Pacifica was reminded of Curzon's display of the doomed Mr. Wentworth, wordlessly building those terrible machines. </p><p>The fact that the entire family had seemingly been made so… eccentric at the hands of Curzon's twisted mind control curses was something that weighed on the young waitress immensely. After all, Pacifica owed the woman a lot. In her mind, Susan was one of the guiding lights in her new life.</p><p>To know that her family had wronged the Wentworths in such a profound way was… painful. </p><p>She decided to venture with it carefully. </p><p> </p><p>"Hey, Susan?" </p><p>"Hm? What is it, sweetie?" Susan smiled as she wiped the counter. "Do you need a break?" </p><p>"No, I just kinda wanted to ask about your family a bit more."</p><p>The stout manager smiled at her deputy's inquisitive nature. "I don't have much to tell you, really, hon. We aren't as exciting as the Northwests or the Piiines. We lived here all our lives."</p><p>Pacifica bit her lip as she considered her next move. "Well, your grandpappy built the generator… What else did your family make? You said you were inventors."</p><p>"Sure were." Susan replied, patting the diner's aquamarine barista coffee maker with pride. "Papa and I even built Lil' Susan together, and she still gives the best cup of Joe in the state!"</p><p>"I sorta meant… Y'know. Historically." Pacifica said fleetingly as she handed her order pad to the chef. "I mean, further back."</p><p>"Ohhh, you must mean Great Granpappy!" Susan laughed. "Aw, you've been reading about the town, huh? I might have known. A smart cookie like you is bound to go off learning on weekends!" </p><p>"y-yeah, you could say that." Pacifica giggled, batting Susan's hand away as she went to pinch her cheek. </p><p>"Well I'm sure you know most of it, you lil' Einstein. Great-Granpappy built the railroad that used to run through these parts. He loved that railroad." She beamed, proudly looking at one of the vintage photographs of the Gravity Falls Bridge. "He put tunnels everywhere in those cliffs during the gold rush, and even designed some of the trains. He was so upset when the train wreck happened that they say he was never quite the same afterwards."</p><p>"Tunnels, huh? How about, like, elevators and stuff?" </p><p>"Elevators? Back then they were pretty rare, Pacifica, but he probably could have. Do you know something I don't?" the lazy-eyed woman enthusiastically crouched to learn more. "I love learning family history! How sweet for you to go researching!" </p><p>Pacifica smiled nervously. “I just saw a lot of stuff that looked like it could be his work. That’s all. He was a real genius, y’know?”</p><p>“He sure was, honey. You might not know this, but there was an early rumour that he and a Northwest were <em> close </em>. If you know what I mean. Some other Northwest who was part of the railroad. It was a bit of a scandal. All the old-timey tabloids talked about it for weeks.”</p><p>The blonde froze. “Hold up. Cycle back.”</p><p>“Yeah, hon. If that kind of stuff was allowed back then, we might have been related!” Susan grinned with a finger-assisted wink. “Funny, huh?”</p><p>Pacifica held her brow and sat down. “Jeez.” </p><p>“I love history. We should go looking into this stuff sometime together, Pacifica. I’m sure there’s lots you could teach me with your super-detective skills.” Susan chuckled, ruffling Pacifica’s hair. “Keep it in mind, sweetie.</p><p> </p><p>“S-sure. I- I will.” Pacifica replied, staring blankly at the floor. She barely even registered that Dipper had just arrived and sat down at the counter alongside her. </p><p>“So, you aren’t gonna tell her?”</p><p>Pacifica jumped out of her skin and almost fell from the barstool she had perched on. “Oh my god, Dipper, you can’t just do that!” She wheezed. “I swear, you’re gonna turn me into a nervous wreck!”</p><p>“Sorry.” Dipper grinned. “But what gives?”</p><p>“Dipper… what good would it do?” Pacifica sighed, watching forlornly as Susan went about her duties. “All it’s gonna do is upset Susan with something she could never change. Maybe it’s like… better for her to not know.”</p><p>“I thought we said no more secrets.” Dipper replied.  </p><p>“Between you and me, sure.” She sighed. “Look, I know I’m playing devil’s advocate all of a sudden, but have you ever noticed that she and Toby are<em> happy </em>being bonkers? They’re confident, they’re proud of what they do, they’re friendly… they might be weird as all hell, but why would we wanna change that?”</p><p>“I guess.”</p><p>“Gravity Falls is<em> full </em>of scars from my family. I don’t want to add <em> more </em>. Not if people are doing fine as they are.”</p><p>Dipper thought for a moment and smiled, taking hold of Pacifica’s hand. “Alright. You got it. But what about Toby’s story?”</p><p>“Toby probably knows way more than he lets on, Dipper. No way he didn’t read that notepad first.”</p><p>“I dunno, Paz. He’s pretty-”</p><p>“He might be a bit down on his luck, but he’s a <em> journalist</em>, Dipper. He still manages to print a newspaper every week.” Pacifica shrugged. “More than we can do.” </p><p>“Least until we write our memoirs.” </p><p>“What, at age 13?”</p><p>“Gotta start sometime!”</p><p>She laughed and pushed Dipper’s lumberjack hat firmly over his head. “Are you just here to be dumb or do you want your usual? ”</p><p>“Boom.” Dipper grinned, trying his best to be suave as he leaned against the counter. “Landslide with extra chocolate, shaken not stirred.” </p><p> </p><p>Pacifica giggled and rested her head in her hand, smiling at her boyfriend's antics with no small amount of adoration. If anyone was paying enough attention, they might have picked up on a soft wistful sigh that they shared together. </p><p>Of course, her reaction publicly was fairly obvious. “Sure. Hey, Suse! A Landslide for the world’s <em> dorkiest </em>secret agent.”</p><p>“You got it.” Susan replied. “On the house, provided he stops distracting my waitress."</p><p>"Yeah, he's pretty terrible." Said waitress beamed, planting a kiss on his cheek as Susan served up the drink to them with two straws and a sly smile. </p><p>"Just in case. Have fun, you two. But you only get a fifteen minute break, Pacifica."</p><p>Dipper sipped, raised an eyebrow and gave a little smile. "Hey. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. This is - excuse me - a damned good Landslide."</p><p>Pacifica nearly choked with laughter at the somewhat poorly played attempt at 'cool', giving Dipper a playful shove on the shoulder. "You nerd!" </p><p>"You got the reference! Who's the nerd now?"</p><p>"Call me a nerd one more time, Dipper Pines, and you've gotta take me to the movies."</p><p>"You got it, nerd." Dipper grinned and, this time, tapped Pacifica on the nose. </p><p> </p><p>Whatever the reason, the two seemed to be feeling closer - and more understanding - of each other than ever. Even if they were now prone to public displays of affection on a regular basis. </p><p>Perhaps there was still uncertainty for the future. Perhaps even a lack of confidence and fear. Perhaps even that niggling knowledge that there was probably more to the story, and that the Fundhausers would, sooner or later, require investigation. </p><p>But Dipper and Pacifica had certainty in one thing more than any other at this point - certainty and confidence in each other. In their family. And in the one thing that seemed to unify everyone and everything that they loved. Gravity Falls was freaking<em> weird</em>. And so were they.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0045"><h2>45. Inner Demons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's nearly halfway through Summer, and Preston Northwest is acutely aware that an old 'friend' will be visiting any day now to negotiate a deal. Meanwhile, Toby Determined, haunted by the judgement of his Great-Grampy, finds himself at the discovery of a scandal.</p><p>With Dipper growing ever-desperate to ensure their relationship will last past the summer, and Pacifica growing increasingly perturbed by the true role of her family in Gravity Falls - egged on by the Grunkle's own investigations - something has got to give.</p><p>How far has the Northwest family's power truly declined? How much influence did the family truly wield? And how does Pacifica herself key into the family's legacy?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Dipper found himself alone, surrounded by what seemed to be boundless forest, tree trunks bursting from the floor in thick, black shadows that seemed to loom and twist over him, like giant, black fingers. </p><p>The sky was red, twisted with hues of lurid yellow and orange that felt like a constant, cyclonic avenue of flame, threatening to engulf the landscape that travelled with his every step, flexing and pulsating like it was saturated with sticky, hot molasses, or was formed from thick, molten </p><p>Branches fell, and those giant, inky trunks began to grip the earth around him. Ripping. Tearing. Pulling the earth underneath him apart like bread. </p><p>A horrible, sulphuric smell seemed to blech up from deep below the glowing crust of the cracking world beneath him. Thick, volcanic smoke and a burning heat began to envelop the air, making it difficult to think or concentrate. </p><p>He only knew he needed to get away. </p><p>Without hesitation, Dipper began to run. He wheezed as he tried to sprint away, his naturally poor stamina leaving him out of breath as he desperately sought peace, sought escape, sought solace - desperately trying to reach normality. Desperately trying to escape the weirdness that was attempting to engulf him.</p><p>His chest was heaving, this throat was burning, his face so hot to the touch that it stang and prickled across his neck. Everything around him seemed to be falling apart - everything seemed to be too weak to handle the sudden, vicious, wrenching punishment doled out by those grasping, crawling, digging, heaving fingers.</p><p>He piled behind the most stable structure he could find and clung to it tightly - a purple boulder that seemed to remain so steadfast and strong-willed against even this cruel, outsized enemy. He tried to fight back tears as he felt that pounding, heaving, throbbing pain inside him, like something was ready to burst out of his chest.</p><p>With a vicious rumble and the sound of dry, tumbling dirt, the ground gave way, and, before Dipper’s eyes, that one piece of stability in his predicament plummeted downwards - spiraling into a pair of colossal jaws that slammed shut around it in a veneer of glistening gold.</p><p> </p><p>“You can hide behind anything you like, Pine Tree. But no matter how much your life changes, no matter how much things seem to get better, no matter how much peace you find, you’ll never get away from me.”</p><p>“I’m not interested, Bill! I’m not scared of you! You’re gone! Trapped! It’s all over for you!”</p><p>“You think I’m Bill?! I’m something much worse. I’m your worst nightmare. I’m everything you’ve always feared. The thing most capable of chewing up everything you love and spitting it out, with no care for the consequences.” </p><p>That giant mouth spat out the purple boulder, now hewn into the rough shape of a headless, four legged silhouette. </p><p>The llama. </p><p>“I’m not Bill.” The sinister presence laughed. </p><p>Dipper scrambled backwards and gawked in horror as, before him, a familiar shape leered, its silhouette lit by a sick grin. A teenager with chestnut brown hair, wearing a familiar hat and a vest. </p><p>The twisted reflection of his own form stared directly at him, never failing to keep eye contact as its gigantic finger and thumb lifted the rough-hewn figurine, and crushed it into a fine powder, sprinkling it down into that giant gorge of sulphuric darkness below. </p><p>The pubescent amateur detective cried out in agony as something pulsated in his ribcage. </p><p>“They’re in there, Dipper. Every one of them has horns and claws that will rip you apart, if you let them. What’ll it be kid? How will you keep them quiet? Or is the scariest thing knowing that you can’t?” </p><p>He howled as, under his shirt, he swore he could see several hundred pairs of tiny, glowing red eyes…</p><p>“They’ll be there even if you wake up.<br/>Wake up… <br/>Wake up!<br/><em> Wake up!! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Dipper, wake up!” Pacifica said urgently, shoving her boyfriend as he slumped in the armchair. </p><p>“H-huh?!” He stirred awake with a jolt, his hands suddenly gripping the sides of the armchair fiercely as he panted for air, a cold sweat trickling down his brow.</p><p>“You alright, hon? You were freaking out!”</p><p>Dipper stared up at his girlfriend, the faint, warm glow of Grunkle Stan’s stained glass window light picking up a compassionate smile as she sat alongside him. </p><p>“Bit of a nightmare?” She asked. “Seems like you’ve been having those a lot lately.”</p><p>“T-tell me about it.” He sighed, sitting up and wrapping his arms back around her. “Man, that was a weird one…” </p><p>“Wanna talk about it?”</p><p>“N-no. No, I- I don’t think I do. It’s- it’s just a weird dream.”</p><p>“Alright. I guess that doesn’t count as a secret.” She giggled, patting his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>The silence in the shack was deafening, the white noise on the television hissing quietly, the ancient VHS they had been watching now long since over. The scent of lukewarm hot chocolate, Pacifica’s perfume and the popcorn they had shared was the perfect remedy.</p><p> </p><p>He took a deep breath, smiled, and nuzzled back into her neck. </p><p>“H-hey, watch it!” She laughed. “That tickles! It’s late, Dipper!”</p><p>“I love you, Pacifica.” He smiled, holding her close. “A lot. Y’know?”</p><p>She smirked, trying to fight off that rich red that encroached upon her cheeks. “H-hey, I love you too. But you don’t need to get all soppy with me just because you had a nightmare. Besides, it’s like, 2AM. We should probably get to bed, right?”</p><p>“Do you really wanna move? Nobody’s gonna mind if we sleep in the chair.”</p><p>“My hair will, thank you very much.”</p><p>“Is that really worth having to move?”</p><p>“I guess not.” She smirked. “Provided you don’t drool in your sleep again.”</p><p>“H-hey! I did not!” Dipper protested - uncertainly. “R..right?” </p><p>She tapped his nose and grinned, deciding it was funnier to go without answering the question. “Night, nerd.”</p><p>“G-goodnight.” He replied, his voice almost cracking on cue with that familiar, affectionate motion she seemed to carry as a habit on his coral-pink nose. It was almost like a natural comforter at this point; a regularity that reminded him that things were ‘normal’.</p><p>The Northwest heir rested her head back against him, nuzzling up close as she shut off the television - reducing the room into an even purer silence, and an even darker atmosphere. </p><p>Dipper squirmed, his heart was still thumping. His hands were still shaking. </p><p>He winced, his pin-dot pupils travelling down his front, fearful that those… things might stare back at him, ready to rip out and tear his world apart without hesitation. His heart beat harder as his eyes met the very same area he had seen in his dream, his brain screaming at him to stop just in case they might be there, peering back at him with those savage, burning red stares-</p><p> </p><p>And was met by nothing more than he himself.</p><p>He exhaled in relief. And, before he could give it much more thought, his heavy eyelids fought back and lulled him back into a light, somewhat restless sleep. Holding onto his rock as tightly as he could - inwardly resolving that, no matter what he did, he would never let go, no matter how much his head told him that it was all for naught.</p><p>He didn’t need it to have a meaning.</p><p>He just needed to know she was there.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And so ends the biggest story so far in Return to the Falls - and the conclusion to a six-episode long slow-burn! Thank you so much to all of you for sticking with me throughout this ridiculous journey, and I hope you've enjoyed it. I'd like to give my utmost thanks to Kyo, my wonderful fiancee and proofreader who's provided a constant sharp eye and critical mind over the series.</p><p>I'm now going to be taking a bit of a break while I settle into a new job and focus on the weight of the world - perhaps even work on my second novel. Worry not, my dears, it's not a 'goodbye', more of a 'see you in a bit'. I've already got comic ideas piling up too, so there's plenty more to come to the strange little world of Gravity Falls - even if everything here may seem somewhat final!</p><p>Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales to come. It can't be overemphasised that I'm still incredibly new to all this stuff, and am always very worried about the choices I make for a world I cherish so dearly. I hope that, for now, I've kept up my main aim - to basically keep the show's magic alive and capture that same bouncy, cynical and fun little atmosphere that Gravity Falls thrived off of.<br/>Find my artwork:<br/>www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com</p><p>Find my socials:<br/>www.jamooney.tumblr.com<br/>www.instagram.com/jamooneyart</p><p>Patreon:<br/>www.patreon.com/jamooneyart</p><p>Or my alternative history novel:<br/>www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Huge thanks to my brilliant fiancee, Kyo, for her proofreading, patience and story suggestions.</p><p>Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy; your engagement means the world and guarantees more chapters and tales in the series!</p><p>Find my artwork:<br/>www.jamooneyart.deviantart.com</p><p>Find my socials:<br/>www.jamooney.tumblr.com<br/>www.instagram.com/jamooneyart</p><p>Kofi:<br/>https://ko-fi.com/jamooney</p><p>Or my alternative history novel:<br/>www.thegreatconspiracy.co.uk</p></blockquote></div></div>
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